


Irresponsible Dimensional Alignment

by coreplant



Series: Dimensional Balloons [1]
Category: And combinations of these AUs, Outertale (Undertale AU), Underfell (Undertale AU), Underswap (Undertale AU), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: All the Gasters, Androgynous Gasters, Bad Ideas Aplenty, Bad Luck, Being a Landlord/Landlady, DAMN THE PANTS, Definitely romance, F/F, F/M, Female Gasters, Gasters gotta SCIENCE, Genderfluid Gasters, It's gonna be skippable if I do write it, M/M, Male Gasters, Mostly nongender reader, Multi, Polyamory, Reverse Harem, Serious discussions about sexuality, Situational cravings for chocolate, So many Gasters, Victorian housing, dem tall ceilings, not sure about smut, or at least female pronouns, still got female parts, there's Fell skeletons in this after all, there's gonna be some swearing, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-06-07 17:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15224108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreplant/pseuds/coreplant
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is the right conjunction of action, planetary alignment, and vast amounts of cosmic multidimensional bullhonkey to utterly FUBAR up your life in a moderately uncomfortable way.  And this isn't the first time, so you know it's not heartburn.  It's just . . y'know . . more mysteriously appealing skeletons than you ever expected to have in your life.And having some of your friends get kinda weird.





	1. Measuring

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Jumper and The Skeletons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817324) by [LostImmortality](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostImmortality/pseuds/LostImmortality). 
  * Inspired by [Skeleton Squatters and the Landlady](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816140) by [Tyrant_Tortoise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyrant_Tortoise/pseuds/Tyrant_Tortoise). 
  * Inspired by [A Mouse Among Skeletons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193436) by [Duchess_Aquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Aquarius/pseuds/Duchess_Aquarius). 



> Warning? Just some swearing, and reference to mature topics. Specific chapters will have an added note of warning for any hot buttons.

In less than twenty-four hours, you would be regretting only having had a bit under two months to get used to your housemate. Three months before that, the most pressing thought you had was how you were going to cover the lean months of summer when the last of your renters moved back out. But that was then.

Right now, you were simply trying to comprehend his logic in how he had reorganized the cupboards in the kitchen. There was less than an hour to get dinner ready on time, and yet the measuring cups were nowhere to be found. You had specifically bought them to be able to read the measurements from above, and it had taken months to find a set in green.

Shutting the cupboard with an annoyed huff, you squint at the kitchen, mentally counting off the cupboards you had already checked as you scanned the oddly triangular room.

Odd configurations were just part and parcel to living in/owning a minimally renovated victorian, but you wouldn’t trade your home for anything - your grandparents had lived here their entire lives, before passing it on to your uncle. Who in turn had given it to you when he decided he would rather live in a tiny house and travel across the United States. You still got the odd postcard whenever he visited a new monument.

You sincerely loved the old building, despite how finicky repairs to . . well, anything in the house could be. From the third floor/attic that had been renovated into a full studio apartment, to the basement that nearly fit the entire footprint of the foundation. A risk in earthquake territory, but you thought it was worth it to keep the house, even if you were making ends meet renting to college students.

If you were going to be honest, you were actually doing pretty well for yourself, renting to college students. Sure, you charged more per month than the offsite dorms, but that was to cover for the two meals a day you cooked for them, and the fact you were situated a simple seven-minute walk away from the campus. Between that and a few strict rules that reassured parents, your home had netted a good reputation with town and with the college housing department. 

But this didn’t solve the missing measuring cups problem. . . . if your housemate had used them to measure out liquids for his chemical experiments again, you were going to power clean all his beakers in the dishwasher. Again. Hard water stains and all.

Your gaze traced the mosaic pattern of the teal-and-grey backsplash you’d installed last year, noting the few spots where the color was wrong or you’d had to use a replacement tile (curse your clumsiness). Still, all praise sticky tiles, and it looked pretty damned good in your opinion. It held up to cooking lessons with Papyrus after all.

That flash of pride in your work soured a little with sadness - it had been nearly two months since you’d last seen your friend and had it not be awkward. Nowadays he still came over to visit (if less often), but he spent more time with your housemate and not so much with you. It made sense, this was his dad returned after being gone since he was barely more than a babybones. But interacting with him now was really . . . awkward.

And all this reminiscing wasn’t helping you find the measuring cups or your cup-thieving housemate. Shaking off the potential funk, you stalked out of the kitchen, bare feet quiet on the tile and wood floors. Not that there was anyone to complain currently if there was noise - your last college renter had moved out with the start of the summer to return to their home state. Which had been a bit of a relief, even if the pocketbook would have been a bit lean without your current housemate. Renting to college students had its own problems, and you were damned glad to see the ping pong table that had lived in the small backyard finally leave.

There was no sign in the back of the house, or more accurately in the back that lead to your section of the house - there was no way he’d head up into your semi-detached apartment above the carriage house/garage without your express invitation . . . or if the house was on fire. That was not a good memory, though not a horrible one.

Grumbling to yourself, you cruise on back through the kitchen to check the back hall, and onwards to the dining room - where you spotted him standing in the gap between the mostly-closed pocket doors that divided the dining room from the living room. For once it looked like he’d remembered to leave the lab coat downstairs, leaving just the (very nicely flattering) turtleneck sweater and loose black jeans.

It was a damned crime that those jeans could look so good on someone who technically didn’t have a butt at all. You had yet to figure out the mystery of how his clothes held shape despite just being over bones.

Taking a deep breath, you added a bit more ‘oomph’ to your steps as you headed towards him. You’d both learned to not startle each other by approaching too quietly.

“Dings, where did the-”

Gaster swatted a hand back towards you, the other held up in a quick ‘shush’ as he continued to stare into the room with . . well, as far as you could see, a slowly growing resignation and horror? It was difficult to read his expressions sometimes, especially from profile as he tried to look at you and keep an eye on the living room at the same time. And then something you’d been hearing as you moved back through the kitchen really started to register as coming from inside and not from the front yard as you’d thought.

Voices.

Angry, alarmed voices. 

Speaking in what you were pretty sure was wingdings, considering you’d only heard it when Dings was swearing in alarm or at you. And for the latter, you _had_ provoked him. But this wasn’t Dings, and it wasn’t him swearing. It was a **lot** of voices swearing or otherwise shouting or speaking at each other. You just couldn’t understand a word of it.

On his part Dings regarded the human that had come up behind him - he’d been aware of her approach. How could he not be aware of her? She spent far too much time in his thoughts as it was! It was encroaching on his work, at the very least. Banishing that useless train of thought, he stared at her over his shoulder, mind whirling with the ramifications of what he’d just been watching. The options it brought were staggering, but far less appealing now that he was watching awareness dawn on her face. 

His soul dipped oddly as he watched her face scrunch into a familiar scowl.

Blinking twice, you take a deep breath before firmly shouldering Dings to get him out of the way. He resisted with a hiss, trying to put himself between you and the doors as he started pulling them shut. That was definitely a clear look of panic, and you weren’t going to put up with this.

Ducking slightly to clear his arm - damned tall ~~sexy~~ skeleton - you shove him out of the way with a firm bump of your hip. If you were going to have hips of doom, you might as well use every bit of leverage they gave you. Muttering to him as you wedged yourself through the doors, “What did you do . . ?”

Only to fall silent as you took in what was actually happening in the living room.

On the carpeted floor was a small pile of tall-ish skeletons of varying heights, all pretty certainly taller than you at the least. A quick scan and skullcount proved there was seven skeletons in the house now, counting Dings. The one on the bottom of the pile was clearly dressed in some very worn, very well-used armor and a red scarf, but only vaguely resemble Papyrus - this skeleton wore black like it was the color of his soul. As far as you could tell he was actually not the source of the most swearing.

That was the skeleton immediately above him, sprawled in a very uncomfortable-looking upside-down arch over the one in Armor. This one was wearing a robe with a hood, and what seemed to be a leather motorcycle jacket. The dirty, damp-looking boots sticking out under the robe were definitely motorcycle boots. Your best friend’s manic love of boots has made you aware of the many definitions and styles of boot through sheer proximity osmosis. As he turned his skull, you could see that two of his fangs had been replaced with gold ones.

Sitting on the legs of both of them was another skeleton, grey cloak over a rather pretty blue vest and canary yellow shirt combo. He was cheerfully chatting with standing one in robes, who was standing off to the side staring at your media computer as he talked back. Your media computer was worth staring at with the bullet hole prominently to one side below the disc drive, but it was old news to the sight of a probably over seven foot tall skeleton dressed in the edgiest goth-punk interpretation of what you could call nothing less than an Organization XIII robe.

He even had on fingerless gloves with spikes on the knuckles.

The almost frightening part was Mr. EdgyMcDisney _wasn’t the weirdest option in the room_ \- that was held by the two skeletons hovering in mid-air with cloaks that almost looked like they could be from Dragonball Z. If Dragonball Z was designed by Gene Roddenberry, in an appealing sort of retro-futuristic way. One was primarily in galaxy - that mix of black, rich purples, blues, and pinks, while the other looked like he’d spent way too much time dancing with tasers and shopping at the galactic version of Hot Topic. At least the cloak did, who knew about the clothing underneath.

There was barely a second to take this all in before there was a yank in your chest that you knew had _nothing_ to do with your heart or lungs. All of these new, ridiculously tall skeletons had the same type of scars as your housemate. Not exactly the same shapes, but the same rough areas . . going from one eye to the back of the skull, and from the other down to the mouth or chin.

A horrible, singular thought snuck into your head, so you looked up to see the piece de resistance. A familiar bit of world-altering trouble that was slowly sealing itself back up as if a rift in the sheer fabric of existence had never opened up in your living room ceiling and stained your chandelier an opalescent black. Like it did two months ago, saddling you with a housemate and an almost unbearably awkward dating/not dating situation.

In a very weak voice as a harsh yank in your chest towards the room nearly made you wobble, you spoke to the skeleton behind you. “Sorry Dings, I shouldn’t’ve blamed this on you. . . I owe you a pack of twix. ”

As they all paused, abruptly looking over at the source of the new voice - you - as you stared right back at them. Well, mostly at the two that were floating. “So . . . how the hell are you two doing the funky chicken with the concept of gravity?”


	2. Obscure References

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dapper shoes, threats, and skeleton pretzels. Also, quoting semi-obscure but well-loved movies from the 1980's.

“Get the _**fuck**_ off of me.”  
The skeleton at the bottom of the pile growled before doing a sort of forceful push-up that sent at least the other draped across his torso awkwardly sliding towards the floor with a pained yelp. The one on his legs rolled off with the first hint of motion and hopped up to his own feet with a cheerful grin, leaving the armored one to rise on his own.

Skipping around the one still groaning on the floor, he half-bowed just a few feet away from you, eyelights practically twinkling with glee as he posed with a hand to his chest. “Good afternoon! I’m Wing Ding Gaster, and who might you be miss . . ?”

“Ah . . I’m . . “ Glancing over at the rest of the group, which were gradually starting to gravitate your way at their own paces, you absently give the blue-and-yellow dressed skeleton your name. Your gaze drops, and you blink. That was impressive. “ . . _dude_. You are totally pulling off _checkerboard boots_. That’s some pizzazz.”

“Why, thank you Miss!” 

Behind you, Dings carefully unclenched his jaw as this . . other Wing Ding Gaster visibly preened under the praise. Summoning a set of hands to push the pocket doors open - he really didn’t want another lecture about respecting the age of the building - Dings placed one of his own hands on your shoulder. The other’s grin only widened at the possessive gesture.

Dings cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly to stare at his doppelganger, sneering slightly as he gave the bright clothing a dismissive glance. “ _I_ am Wing Ding Gaster, you-”

“The _fuck_ you are. _Where the **hell** are we_ -” The armored skeleton abruptly shoves his way through the group, earning a snarl from the darker of the two floating ones. A sharp-ended bone the length of a sword glowed in his fist, pointed towards you with clear hostile intent. His eye sockets narrowed as he took in the scene before him. “How did a _human_ end up in the Underground?”

Before you can actually reply to that, the answer comes from one of the others - specifically the galactic one, who had drifted over to one of the five windows that sat in the curved wall of the sitting area (your grandparents had the couch that fit in there made custom to exactly fit the large curve) and lifted the curtain. He was staring out the window with a very stunned expression, face thrown into dramatic shadow by the evening sunlight outside. “We’re on the Surface. On the _surface of a planet_.”

His moment of drama was completely overruled by his fellow disobeyer-of-gravity shoving him down onto the couch below in order to stare out the window himself (something about the motion hadn’t looked right, but frankly this was weird to begin with), nearly yanking the curtain off the window entirely. You couldn’t understand what the galactic one said from the couch, but judging by the looks of distaste and for one of them outright disgust, you were pretty certain you didn’t want to know. Besides, it was more fun to watch their expressions as they mobbed the windows, lifting curtains to peer out at the world outside. Ignoring how close Dings actually was, you were about to speak quietly to him when your gaze slid to the steadily-closing rift in the ceiling.

“ . . Damnit! Hey, Dings, ask me what the Great Conjunction is.”

You just knew your housemate was looking at you like he suspected you were a loony, but he decided to indulge you anyways.

“What’s the great conjunction? You tell me.”

Perfect, a chance to ham it up and quote the scene with as much vigor as possible, letting the words roll and rumble off your tongue as you vogued the whole looking-through-things part. You did need to find your phone, after all. “The Great Conjunction is the _end of the **world**_ . . . or the beginning!”

Heading to the fireplace mantle, you continued, ignoring how the other skeletons in the room had joined your housemate in visibly doubting your sanity. Or maybe just being confused. “Miss, what are-”

You cut off the snazzy-dressed skeleton with a brief press of a finger to his mouth, grinning as he stuttered to a stop and a blush that was blue on one side and orange on the other. Stepping away, you scanned the mantle as you continued. “End, begin, all the same! Big change. Hmm . . “

You snatched something flat from the mantle. “Sometimes good.” A quick check proved that yours of the two phones was almost out of power. “Sometimes bad.”

Dings’ phone had plenty of power though. “Ah, there it is!” With a grin you chucked it across the room to him, smile widening when he caught it with ease in a summoned hand. Those things were just so cool. Dropping the act, you pointed up at the nearly-gone rift. “Can you call the pizza place Dings? ‘Cause I don’t think these guys are going anywhere any sooner than you are.”

Another harsh yank in your chest had you visibly wincing, pressing a hand over your sternum. You didn’t care the gesture looked rude, since it practically demanded you spelunk your cleavage - that had hurt. You were vaguely aware of the ongoing conversation around you, the incredulity in their voices as they talked about the surface, or in the case of Mr. Sharp Bones, interrogated Dings on what a pizza was. He was also glaring at you out of the corner of his eye sockets.

 

Nope, couldn’t deal with that right now, wasn’t essential to what was tugging hard and tight and painful in your chest. It _hurt_. 

As soon as your gaze dropped to the skeleton still on the floor, half-crumpled around his own limbs in a heap from where Mr.Armor shoved him off, the cause becomes clear. He was in pain, and it was making things worse. Wobbling over, you dropped to your knees at his side. He outright froze, eyelights snapping over to you in fear from where his cheekbone was being forced against the carpet by his own weight. Somehow his motorcycle jacket had gotten looped over the back of his skull, binding up his shoulders to the point where he’d been unable to lower them and balance enough to uncurl his back - like nothing else, his current pose reminded you of when sims would fail the scorpion yoga pose. Except actually stuck that way, the curve sharp and painful-looking.

Trying to give him a comforting smile (you had no idea what actual expression you had, with the pain, but damnit you were trying) you said softly, “Here, let me help you straighten out.”

Hands out to, but not yet touching his arm. It felt like a year and a day before he gave a slight nod, silently giving you wary permission. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you gripped his arm and gently but firmly wiggled it through the arm of his coat - pulling off said coat just enough to free his skull before tugging it back into place. After that was guiding his legs back up and over, supporting them as he slowly straightened his back.

Really, it was almost surreal how tangled up in himself he’d become. But at least the horrible, tugging pain was easing away, carried on his low groan of relief and pain as he settled flat and not-entirely-free-yet on the carpet. It was a pretty carpet, an old green and rose fleur-de-lis one that suited the building. You could remember playing on it with your teddy at a very young age.

Wait, getting this easily distracted when someone needs help?

Not typical of you. 

Glancing around as the skeleton you just helped untangle rests a bit, you note the others are either in each other’s faces (poor Dings. He looked up to handle Mr.Sharp Bones tho) or glued to the windows with a variety of expressions. Shrugging, you looked down at the semi-wary skeleton on the carpet. 

Without him being either in pretzel formation or stuck on in a pile with the others, he had an interesting mix of style. Kinda motorcycle gang meets medieval monk. His scarring was actually pretty extensive, with several small holes peppering the lines of the scar going from his left eye socket to the back of his skull, and down to his mouth where the two gold fangs gleamed.

Double fangs, like how some vampires were designed. That was cool. And it suited him, even if her had the air of a wary, very-often-kicked and scarred dog. You wanted to coo, patch up his hurts, and feed him cookies.

“Want some tea and painkillers? I need to put some things away in the kitchen anyways.”

“ . . um, okay?”

Leaving the noise behind was a relief, even if you could easily hear the hubbub in the kitchen. This was honestly one of your favorite places in the victorian, after years of living in apartments. While oddly shaped, the kitchen was huge and well-designed to let up to four people cook in here at once. Your dad had updated the cabinets himself before your grandparents had passed, and the stained glass work that hid the overhead lights was your mother’s design and work. Your grandmother had loved it, and her touch was still apparent everywhere - you hadn’t had the heart to replace the old-fashioned pressed-mold goblets with more modern glasses, or taken down the little bits of art from various states.

It just felt better for you, having all these small reminders.

Your tall companion was still moving in a stiff, pained way as he settled on one of the stools set by the far wall. It was one of the few places to sit in the kitchen, and it had the best view of the back yard. And of what had been the Housekeeper’s Cottage, way back when. 

He seemed torn between looking out at the view and watching you, eyelights nervously darting between the view outside and the person inside. You did your best to keep it casual, putting the kettle on for tea before tracking down the cabinet with the first aid kits - yours and Dings’. Cracking open Dings’ without an ounce of shame, you quickly rifled it of it’s painkilling goodies, sorting through them before putting the most likely options out on the counter.

“Right, so the kit’s stocked with this - it says it’s for headaches? But it needs to go into a drink.” You put a bottle of faintly green-glowing, thick, syrupy substance in front of the nervous skeleton, who seemed intent on not speaking just yet. And then another one that was more of a blue-green powder. “And this says to take it sprinkled on food for . . . fever, joint pain, and . . “

You peered at the tiny text, frowning slightly. “Limp bullets . . ?”

Shrugging, you moved on, not noticing the deep, skull-wide flush of purple and dark blue that covered his head and started creeping down his spine. The last bottle was full of small, yellow-green pills. “Oh, this looks promising, says it’s specifically for healing body pain. Think it’ll work for your back-whoops, be right back.”

You left the bottles for him to select from as the kettle began to whistle, lifting it quickly from the stove and onto the designated kettle-trivet set up on the counter. Considering all the tea Dings and you drank, you fully expected him to wander into the kitchen fairly soon after hearing that. Humming softly to yourself, you set to prepping up the first mug. “Echoflower chai tea alright? We have honey and milk for sweetening it, if you like.”

Behind your back, your tall ~~scared puppy~~ skeletal company shrunk down in his seat after taking the second medicine bottle and hiding it in the potted plant on the table, still blushing vividly as he nervously scanned the room. It was going to happen at any moment. He just knew it would. Things had been nice for way too long.

Fidgeting a little, he summoned a hand to put the other medication back on the counter with the kit. If he was polite now, it’d be easier to find later when he needed it. “J-just pl-lain.”

The sound of plastic thudding loudly against steel made him cringe when the hand slam-dunked the bottle into the sink instead of simply setting it down on the counter. Surprisingly the bottle didn’t break, just ricocheting across the kitchen to bounce into a cupboard hard enough that the door popped open. “S-sorr-ry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this start on getting to know the new housemates! I'll admit I'm still a bit nervous about posting, but you've all been so nice!
> 
> And a big thank you to my beta reader, NamelessOkami!


	3. It's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long ten minutes, surely they can understand the need to laugh hysterically.

You paused, staring at the sink, then across the room in disbelief. Did that _really_ just happen? A long, slow blink later, and you couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled up your chest - past that still-a-bit-tight, pained, tugging spot - and out your throat. Cackling with unexpected glee, you leaned against the counter, trying to muffle your snorts in your arms. Even the absurdity of having a can of tomato sauce in one hand because you had yet to put it away was hilarious.

Eventually you come to rest on the floor, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. Only to nearly lose it again at the sight of the can rolling slowly across the kitchen floor because you lost grip on it somehow. Life was simply too absurd to handle right now. Vaguely you could hear muttering and grumbling as slow, heavy footsteps skirted around you - barely coming close enough for you to see the edge of a robe in your water field of vision.

Fighting yourself down to wheezy giggles, you looked over at the skeleton in the kitchen, giving him an apologetic smile in response to the disgruntled glare direct your way. “Heehee . . . sorry . . s’just . . kinda the last bit? On all the weird?”

You can accept a snort as an answer. With another weak chuckle, you scooted to sit up a bit better but not closer. There was just something about the scrunched set of his shoulders that warned you away. Even if he looked oddly adorable with his large hands cupped around the too-small-for-his-hands mug. The contents of the mug were underlighting his features in an appealing way, enhancing the scars and elegant lines of his long skull. He was also watching you with no little amount of wariness and nerves.

After a moment of taking in that expression, you decided to not hide your blatant aesthetic admiration. “Sorry for staring, but you’re downright gorgeous.”

That got you a downright hostile stare. “You’re full of shit.”

“Nope, mean it! You’ve got cheekbones models would practically kill to have!”

“Several drag queens that would at least.”  
Dings’s voice cut through the semi-hostile environment like an avalanche through a mountain pass. You roll your eyes blatantly before looking up and over at the tall skeleton standing in the doorway to the second hall. It went from the original back door all the way around the staircase and to the front door, becoming the main hall. 

It was pretty easy to scare the hell out of naughty renters in the middle of the night in this place, honestly.  
You casually wave a hand towards Dings. “Hi there, mister tall, pale, and nerdy.”

He just snorts, giving you a glance-over before heading into the room. Skirting your sprawled legs, Dings calmly flipped open a cabinet to bring down another coffee mug. Quickly making himself a mug of tea, he then turned to lean his hip against counter.

Turning to meet the stare of this alternate version of himself, Dings kept his gaze cool and collected. The other looked somewhere between defensive anger and nervous fear, mug held so tight his bones were creaking faintly. Judging by the faint glow, at least half of the contents had been drunk.

“I suppose it is too much to hope that your name isn’t exactly Wing Ding Gaster, is it.”  
He spoke in a flat, even tone. Hardly welcoming, but very little about this situation was pleasing to Dings. Apparently his tone was also not pleasing to you, considering you poked him in the back of the knee with a finger, making him yelp and skitter to the side. His alternate snickered, relaxing a little.

“Too much sass there, Dings. What did you order, anyways?”  
You demand, smiling from the floor. He frowned right back at you. “Are you going to stand up if I tell you?”

“Maybe. So is he right?” You looked over to the other skeleton in the room, before looking back at Dings. After a few seconds your gaze switched again, something that made Dings frown - not that you noticed. But the other did.

After a few seconds of meeting your gaze, he nodded, finally speaking in a more neutral tone. It also revealed just how rusty and unused his voice sounded. “Yeah, same name.”

“You’re going to need a nickname. I gave one to Dings, and now you need one! Otherwise this is going to be confusing as all hell.” You decreed, folding your arms to rest your chin on your hand and your elbow on your knee - unaware that your shirt had slid down one arm. Both skeletons flushed a bit, not that you paid any attention to that. “Do you have any hobbies?”

The not-yet-nicknamed skeleton blinked at that, and after a few seconds of clear internal debate (at least you thought that’s what it was, considering he did try to hide behind his mug by drinking what was in it) he finally spoke. “Rocketry. Fuel ratios, chemistry, speed records.”

“Ooh, that is cool.” You tilted your head as you thought on that, brain sliding through the history of that field of science. Or at least as much as you casually remembered about it. With a few minute’s thought, you were grinning and snapping your fingers. “What do you think of the name Murphy?”

“ . . why Murphy?”

“‘Cause of Murphy’s Law - ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’. It came from one Captain Edward Murphy, one of the engineers on the project studying the effects of rapid acceleration and deceleration on the human body. Apparently one of his co-workers had a habit of writing down things he said.” You prattled on, grinning wider at his look of interest. “He didn’t name Murphy’s Law, but it was something he’d say that stuck and spread. So, how d’you like it, Murphy?”

With a slightly lopsided smile, Murphy nodded. “Yeah, it works.”

The newly nicknamed Murphy set his mug down on the shallow table he was sitting at. And taking a long look at the other two people in the room, he absently fidgeted with his jacket zipper. “So . . we’re on the surface?”

You nodded as Dings spoke. “As of next week, it will have been a decade since the breaking of the barrier. By the way, it was two hawaiian, a meat lovers, that artichoke fiesta thing you like with regular sauce, a standard vegetarian, two each pepperoni and plain cheese . . and a small with jalapeno, pineapple, and anchovies.”

“Woohoo!” You cheer from the floor, throwing your arms up before rolling over to get to your feet. His expression when reciting your favorite mix of ingredients on pizza was always priceless. There’s no spring chicken springing up for you, but you were fairly graceful. Mostly. 

Lunging forwards, you quickly wrap Dings in a quick hug before letting go of the undoubtedly ~~flustered~~ annoyed skeleton and almost bouncing your way towards Murphy. “Anyways, good to meet you, Murphy - how’s your back feeling? Meds work?”

You already knew things were improving - that horrible pain had eased up, and while strained, it was no longer aching, ripping pain in your chest. Murphy nodded, slowly rising back to his feet from the table. Unfortunately not looking as he moved to put the mug down on it. The doomed porcelain receptacle tipped over and hit the floor with a thundering crash as soon as his fingers relaxed. 

Hopping back a step with a yelp as a sharp sting flared up on your left calf, you then ignored it in favor of checking over them, scanning over both skeletons with worry. “You two okay? Don’t move! I’ll get the broom!”

“It can wait.” Dings’ voice is flat as you’re abruptly up in the air, the firm feel of his bones under your back and thighs. It’s brief, before the cold tile of the counter meets your rear after the few long steps he takes, but definitely there. The contact . . it’s warm, almost tingling in the way you’d discovered monsters feel, but this is more intense. You blink owlishly up at his face as he continues talking. “You’re bleeding.”

Oh, that. You were fairly certain you were in shock, which would explain the driving need to make sure the mug was cleaned up, or how you hadn’t noticed your sock was slowly soaking up blood. Looking down at your leg, you determined this pair of foot coverings were doomed. You didn’t really feel anything from the cut itself, though. Vaguely aware of Murphy rushing to get the other first aid kit, you studied the long cut, lifting the leg up onto the counter. Tile could be cleaned - and so could the floor, for that matter. “Oh, that’s not too bad. Y’know what? I think I’m in shock - I’m really not feeling that much. Maybe a little light-headed. Probably should clean it before anything else though, there’s clean towels and wipes for that in my - oh! Thank you Murphy.”

You reached out for the kit, but to your surprise Murphy plonked it down on the counter on the other side of the sink and started unpacking it. As you watched, the two skeletons seemed to work in almost perfect synchronization, Murphy handing Dings everything he needed from the kit as he tended to your cut. In short order, Dings was handed the last bit of tape as he needed it to tape down the end of the bandage. It was as fascinating to watch as it was to watch the summoned hands pick up the shards of ceramic from the floor.

It was neat and tidy work, the patching-you-up, you were impressed - and with his strength, Dings had little trouble lifting your ample curves off the counter. You’d always been a hefty one, and the softening brought by age (and discovering you could handle limited amounts of dairy) had only made your curves more prominent. Any day you could ignore your body was a good one, in general.

Flexing your leg, you eyed the bandage before nodding. “Great work, Dings, Murphy. Thank you.” Turning to give them a smile, you were surprised to find golden flush on Dings cheekbones, along with a reappearance of the dark blue to purple on Murphy’s.

Giving them a puzzled look, you shifted to lower yourself off the counter - only to have Dings move to outright lift you down, setting you down on your feet. “Stable?”

This was honestly more long contact than he’d ever initiated in the time he’d been here. Staring up at him, you nod, head briefly feeling very . . disconnected and too aware of his hands resting on your waist. How warm the contact was.

“Thank you, Dings.”

A simple smile, simple words, and they set his soul fluttering. The sobering thing was it clearly affected Murphy as well - that glare was equal parts confused, wary, and envious. And she seemed entirely unaware of it, or the effect she was having. As always.

Clearing his throat, Dings released her and stepped back. “You’re welcome.”

A wince crossed your face as a new pain tugged inside your chest in time with the crash you could hear from the living room. This was going to be a joy adjusting to, it seemed. Absently rubbing your sternum again with a hand, you pulled away from Dings, not noticing how his expression dropped then flattened as you headed back through the house to the living room.

In the living room, there was a bit of a dogpile situation, with the dapper skeleton, the galactic, and Mr.EdgyMcDisney were piled on top of Mr. Sharp Bones. Pinning him to the floor with a mix of their body weight, magic, and bones as the armorclad skeleton swore and ranted at them.

You winced, rubbing your ears with your other hand as he slipped in and out of wingdings. The language seemed a particularly good vehicle for intent, and whatever it was he was ranting, _he fully believed it and put all his wrath behind it_. The hard tug behind your breastbone eased with the proximity, but the pain (in your chest as well as your ears) was barely eased.

Through the other archway that lead out into the main hall, you could see the more edgy of the galactic skeletons casually paying the pizza delivery guy for the stack of boxes now suspended in the air by hands made of orange magic. Definitely very different colors from Dings, although you’d seen him do the hand trick plenty of times before. Propping one hand on a hip, the other gave the beleaguered bunny a cheerful, equally flirtatious as it was vaguely menacing little wave. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s just upset his sports team lost earlier today. Toodles!”

The voice alone brought a stunned silence, threw you for a loop and caused your cheeks to flush. Either that one was female or a drag queen, and either option was . . well, if you were going to be frank, really appealing on a want-to-get-to-know-this-person level. Shutting and locking the door, they sashayed back into the living room with the pizza boxes still suspended in their magic.

You grinned as they huffed at the stares. That hand on the hip - and wow, those were nice hips - returned, and they gave the group a haughty stare. “Is it really that surprising, _boys_? Now, if you’re done gawking, I do believe dinner has arrived.”

With the cape thrown back as it was, you could appreciate how **stunning** their clothes were. The pants were straight cut with flared ankles, dark and velvety looking boots with chunky heels, and a beautifully shimmery top with a draped cross-cut front and billowy sleeves. The gold-and-moonstone jewelry just . . _perfect_ with all the red and black and dark grey. To think that ragged, electric-seared and strange cloak had hid them so well. You lifted a hand, snagging their attention. “Your clothes are gor _geous_ , and I was just wondering what pronouns you prefer? Oh, and the little box is probably mine, I like a weird mix of toppings.”

“Mmm, she/her pronouns. My name is Wing Ding Gaster all the same as these . . louts.” The confirmation was given idly as she scanned the boxes with a quick glance, one hand gesturing dismissively towards the pile of stunned skeletons on the floor. The small box floated down to in front of her. A moment’s examination, and she lifted the lid.

She grimaced slightly after seeing the mix of toppings, then took a cautious sniff. “ . . eclectic tastes.” With a gesture the box is floating towards you, and easy to snag out of the air. You shrug. “I know, but I like it - thank you for dealing with the delivery.”

Somehow between the shock and casual conversation in the silence that followed, the pain in your chest eased up enough to be bearable. Looking down at the pile, you gently nudge the dapper one with a foot. “You might as well let him up, it’s time to eat.”

Mr.Checkerboard Boots gives the skeleton he’s sitting on a skeptical look, but nods after a moment and holds out his hand for a hand up. You oblige with a smile, and end up blushing as he takes the moment to not just stand, but end the motion with a flourished - and brief - kiss to the back of your hand. “All right Miss.”

As you were helping with the skeleton pile, Dings and Murphy finally filed into the room - some of their summoned hands taking a box or two. Or in Murphy’s case, just taking a box with his own hands. The pile began to untangle, with Mr. EdgyMcDisney rising first and snagging one of the boxes out of the air. He then sat down on the beanbag chair by the TV, not paying the inactive screen a single bit of attention as he flipped the box open. “What’s this?”

As he spoke, Murphy settled in the other beanbag, facing towards the group instead of the TV with his own pizza box. The two beanbag-sitters exchanged a glance, then leaned over to peer in each other’s box.

You opted to plop your rump down on the couch, giving Dings a mildly surprised look when he chose to sit next to you instead of opposite, like he usually did. As the pizzas he was holding landed on the coffee table (you love the thing, being a well-polished slab of shell fossil rock inset in a round table), Dings gave the rest of the group a wary, warning stare - which flattened into cold hostility when the female skeleton settled on your opposite side.

You were entirely oblivious to his cold stare and her coldly amused return glare. Instead, you were happily lifting a slice of your chosen pizza heaven out of the box - happily giving a little demo on how to eat a pizza slice, and even rambling a little on how infused food was really popular in this town.

Utterly unaware of the war of glares and confusion happening over your head. You were, however, aware of the furious glare being given to you from just opposite the coffee table. The armored one stood there, hands clenched into fists as he stared - nay, glared - down at you. After a few moments thought, you turned the box around towards him. “Want to try it?”

Apparently that wasn’t the response he was expecting, although he did ignore it. “How the _hell am I _here. **Human**_.”_

That was an all-new level of hate getting poured into a single word, and the pain throbbing in your chest pitched up again sharply - still not precise, but . . . Taking a deep breath, you deliberately turned the box halfway so he still had the option to try a slice as you grabbed your next one. “I don’t know precisely. Sans-” 

Were you imagining that room-wide flinch at that name? 

“-could probably explain it a bit better, but from my less-then-phd level knowledge? You are here ‘cause of random chance, some bizarre alignment of reality with multiple others. And for some equally unknowable reason I’m your . . . “ You gesture with the pizza slice vaguely, eyeing it with longing before continuing your explanation. “Anchor? More or less? To this reality. Really - Dings wasn’t very skeleton-like when he arrived, and now I think he’s about to normal . . “ 

Huffily Dings ah-hems in indignation, and you take the opportunity to feed more pizza into your face. The rest of the group seems . . . ambivalent? Or maybe just not willing to show what they’re actually thinking. You look down at your box of pizza as Mr. Armor huffs off to another part of the room - wait, that edgy pain in the neck took a slice! 

The rest of the meal passed in mostly silence, and there was way less pizza left over than you were expecting. Each skeleton finished off at least half if not close to two thirds of a pizza on their own, and there was none left whatsoever of your favorite. _Mr. Armor was a pizza-thieving meanie._

You were going to be the better person and not call him on it. After all, it had to be upsetting to be tossed somewhere strange with alternates of yourself. The entire group had trailed after you to the kitchen when you put away the leftover pizza, and now there was a skeleton . . . well, pretty much everywhere someone could comfortably sit. Weirdly enough Dings was still sticking close to your side. 

~~It made it harder to shove the almost-moment earlier today out of your mind.~~

“So, Miss . . . you have as little idea of why we are here as we do.” The tallest of them all, the one with the galaxy clothes? He had a voice of _deep liquid sin_. Like some sort of naughtier counterpart to the gorgeous tones of Morgan Freeman, and more than enough to send shivers up your spine. His edgier counterpart was examining her fingertips as if checking how well she’d washed up after the pizza. Or maybe studying that moonstone ring she was wearing. 

“Mm-hmm, that’s right . . oh, I have an idea for nicknames for you two, if you don’t mind?” You took the raised eye ridges as an affirmative, pointing first at mister-liquid-vocal-sin and then Ms. Gorgeous. “Gemini for you, and Scorpio for you - they’re names of constellations, and you two kinda have this whole . . cosmic theme going with your clothes . . “ 

Unease rises as they regard you blankly - maybe the nicknames didn’t work for them? But then she nods, and a flush of relief makes you blush. “Scorpio . . yes, that will work quite well. Considering the . . confusion, our mutual name would cause, if we prove to all be ‘anchored’ to you as you mentioned.” 

“Bullshit. That is complete and utter **bullshit**.” The armored one snarls from where he stands at the end of the counter island, raw anger on his face as he glares at you. And it sparks up the pain - it hurts, twisting in your chest and wearing your normally robust patience thin. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, as you gesture to the back door. “You can test it all you want, Aries. If I’m wrong, nothing will happen if you cross the street out there - I’m not going to keep anybody who wants to leave here.” 

You’ll just call the Royal Guard, and Sans, about it once they’re out of sight . . if nothing happens. As you watch him stomp across the room and out the door, you not-so-casually slump down into one of the chairs at the table, not really noticing Dings at your side yet again. Was anticipation going to make this worse? Or were you overthinking it/making it worse as the newly dubbed Aries stalked away? 

Dings hand on your shoulder again is noticeable, and well worth giving him a thankful smile for the support. The two of you had gone through this before, for his own stressed, disbelieving reasons. But you were scared it would be worse with this many . . . 

The dapper skeleton snorts in amusement, his gaze on the door and not on you. “He didn’t even notice you calling him that, Miss . . . “ Abruptly his skull goes ashen-grey, pressing a hand over his sternum. “M-miss?!” 

Aries . . . is across the street now, you’re pretty sure - you can can feel how thin and painful it is in your chest, how strong the pull is. So strong you’re fighting to breathe around it, flesh and bone fighting to exist around a pull that has nothing to do with the physical. The edges of your vision starts to grey, and you can vaguely feel the cool tile of the floor . . . something warm and hard under your head . . ? 

It all goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'd think with three chapters I'd be starting to get over being nervous about posting . . . Anyways, the first nickname!
> 
> All thanks to my beta reader, NamelessOkami!


	4. Speaking In Wingdings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Things Happen That You Are Not Aware Of.

“Hold her steady, I’ll go get that moron.”  
Dings was already halfway to the door by the time he started speaking, and the last of his sentence barely made it in the room. Both newly-dubbed Gemini and the dapper one had moved quickly to catch their ~~how he hated that~~ human. At least she was not at risk of more harm. Considering he had existed here for a solid two months, he theorized he was . . less unstable than the others. Even if he too could feel the horrible, surreal twisting in his soul.

He was desperately hoping his theory was correct.

It reminded him of the Void, in a vague, not-really kind of way. As vast, implacable, and empty, but not the void. But lingering on that wasn’t solving the problem at hand. With the height of the small porch outside the back door - one of the oddities of this building, although he was thankful for the very high ceilings on every floor - he could get a quick view of the street.

And there was their problem across the yard and on the other end of the cul-de-sac, half-collapsed and looking . . . very much like Dings did a month ago. A grimace of reluctant sympathy crossed his face as Dings quickly headed down the stairs, long legs making quick work of the short distance to the street.

It was only quick check for traffic (and animals) that slowed his progress to where Aries was leaning against a mailbox, bits of his armor . . . parts of himself slowly dripping like thick tar into a steady puddle that pooled around where his feet had been. It was a horrifyingly familiar situation for Dings. 

He knew what that felt like.

The numbness.

The overwhelming feel of being ẹ̣̱͛v̡͚͉͚͌ͧ͌ͪ̚e̛̜͖̭̫͈̪̪ͣͩ̂̊r͙̮̯͍̘͗̄͒̈ͯ͢y̧̥̮̪͎̞̟̟ͨ͌ͫt̶̠͕̥͖̥̬̦̔̄hi̪̥̖̹n̙ͪ̏g̩̳̝̯͌ͣͨͦͥ̚͝.

The _hideously _intimate over-sensitization of everything that left his mind screaming from the intensity.__

__How feeling everything and not͎̦̺̯̔ͦͭͯẖ̲̰͛ͮ̽͒̋ͧi̭̖̹̐͆̏ͧn̹̏͑g̒̽̕ͅ ̍̐̽ a͇̳̥̠̦̰̟̓ͤͫ̀̍̍̔t̟̦͚̻̦͙̀͆̽ t̶he͞ ̶̛ş̛͟a͝m̛̿̋̾̎͆ê̡̢͂ͩ͒ͭͧͧͫ ̀̈́ͬ͊͒͛ͯ̈́̂͞t̷̶̍̈̏̂í̀̑ͤ̉̏̔̓ͩm̵̓ͫͩ͋̓͊̕͞e͊̌͑̈́ ̶̊͗͌ñͣ̎ͤ̀͒ͥ͋̚͢êͩ͡vͣ̊͂͏̦̦̳e̬͈̫̣͍ͦ̐ͧ̌ͧ̚r̷̛̪͎͇̤͎̻̍͌ͫ͒̄_ _

__ę̸͔͈͚̣͚͉̼̹͇̳̭͎̓̇́̓͘͞v̸̠̘̺̣̣̩̖̞̤̜̅̈́ͮͪ̉͐̾̋́̇ͧ̌͋̈̀ͯ̇͘͢ȩ̭̗͕̭͈̤̻͉̟̳̩̙͎̩̣͕͍̜̔ͮ̓̉̕ȓͧ̏́͗̂̍ͦͨͮ̅ͪ̚͢͏̜̗̫͖̭̻̫̭̻̤͈͘͞ͅ_ _

__. . ._ _

__

__Closing his eye sockets, Dings dug up memories, fighting to center himself. Seeing the sun, the stars. Falling in a pool at the King- _Asgore's_ home. Eating spaghetti for the first time. _That song_ . . . The melody wove sweet through his thoughts as he let out a breath and refocused. On actually seeing the goopy skeleton in front of him. A part of his mind theorized the only reason why he was retaining his own legs right now was due to Dings’ longer exposure to their human’s soul effect. As it was, he was feeling . . rather _mushy_ in comparison to his usual self._ _

__“You stubborn asshole.”  
There was a note of exasperated and begrudging respect in Dings’ voice - Aries was actually a good five feet further than Dings could have gone at that point of legs-lacking. The invisible tether that kept him close to her was strained as tight as it could stretch, by what he felt._ _

__

__Aries didn’t look up from staring at his hands in horrified fascination. His voice carried the rasp and distortion of static as he demanded, ““̴͠W̨̛͘h͢͠a̶t͢͟͡ ̶̛t͘͜he͠ ͏h͡e͢҉͡l͢l҉ ̷͟҉is t͡hi̵̴s̕?̶̧̨”̡̧͢_ _

__“The effect of the void, the space between realities. It will be easier to explain inside the house.”_ _

__This promise seemed enough to coax Aries to start heading back towards the building after a few moments, his . . . motions . . . hesitantly and painfully awkward as he tried to get soft and melting limbs to move. Dings had to wonder if the sensation of moving as a puddle was as horrifying to the other skeleton as it had been to him. It was slow going either way, and he had to pay distinct attention to avoid any contact between their respective melting parts as they drew closer to the start of the house's yard.  
even if he did sneer at the soft yellow it was, or perhaps it was the burnt orange and forest green bits of the trim. Personally, Dings was more reminded of a flower, and found the intricate details of the trim pleasing, inside and outside._ _

__It was easier to resist the urge to try to outright pick up Aries and rush him along if Dings focused on the house. The closer the two of them became to the home, the easier the twist and pull on their souls, but it wasn’t happening fast enough. He managed to last until Aries’ legs were basically were back in place before outright throwing the shorter skeleton over his shoulder._ _

__Considering the armored skeleton’s temperament ~~was this what his temper would have been, if he’d never learned to suppress it?~~ , Dings took it as a bad sign the perpetually-angry Gaster was not wriggling more. Or even swearing much even as his voice rang unpleasantly through Dings’ skull. He still snarled, picking up the pace to a longer stride that carried them both quickly up the stairs and inside._ _

__The kitchen was empty._ _

__A brief moment of alarm rang through his skull, before Dings went on a hunch and moved on into the main hall, using it to quickly cut to the living room. There, the others were sitting, even draped over the various bits of furniture. It almost resembled the wake of a particularly cranky toddler having thrown their favorite dolls all over the room. Their human ~~he hated that thought, bitter and sharp on his tongue~~ was set on the couch, breathing slowly and almost inaudible, her head pillowed on Scorpio’s lap. A chill froze his soul for a second, as it sank in how close it _could have been_. Something sour and angry followed, and he bit down the rising emotion._ _

__With an annoyed grunt, Dings strode across the room, stepping over the new Murphy-shaped ‘rug’ (he seriously looked like he was trying to merge with the carpet) to drop Aries into the space between the coffee table and the couch. Their human didn’t even twitch at the loud clatter and profanity that caused. Said profanity rose in pitch when Dings casually pinned Aries in place with a foot between his shoulder blades, leaning heavily as well as reinforcing with magic. Bending over, he scanned their human’s face, noting the paleness, the shallow and far too quiet breathing._ _

__Seriously, the woman could snore fit to drown out a chainsaw normally. ~~It was bizarrely charming.~~ “Raise her head a bit higher - we’ll know she’s recovered when she starts snoring.”_ _

__Scorpio raised an eyeridge at that, but quickly snagged one of the decorative pillows on the couch and tucked it gently under the human’s head and shoulders, summoning a few hands to make the process smoother. Within a few breaths their hostess seemed to be breathing easier, a little pinker. Almost absently, Scorpio replaced Dings’ foot with her own when the other Gaster moved away from the couch to stand by the mantle. She took extra care to dig in her heel._ _

__“You _fucking **bitch**_.”_ _

__“Oh come now, you surely have more creativity than that? It’s almost bland.”  
Scorpio mocked with a faint smirk. She idly continued smoothing the human’s hair back. Why was it so fascinating to touch? _ _

__Scorpio looked up at Dings, her gaze skimming over the rest of the others. All of them were still showing signs of what they’d all apparently felt - tight, wrenching pain and loss, starting to be drawn thin somehow. Out of balance._ _

__It honestly wasn’t a surprise when Gemini drifted down to sit on the couch next to her, not quite close enough to touch. They were strangers, making the proximity . . uncomfortable at the least. Made even more so by the silent acknowledgement of the pull to this particular human, their stabilizer._ _

__Aries glowered out across the floor, pressing his hands into carpet and digging his claws through the wood underneath. His scowl darkened at the resistance from the boot on his back - really, the dig of that heel was nothing, he was used to pain - but he was not going to let her keep him pinned. Bracing his fists, he thrust up from the ground, shoving upwards._ _

__Across the room Dings cleared his throat, having folded his hands at the small of his back. Presentation mattered, even if he was certain that at least half of those here knew the little tricks to manipulate an audience as well as - or even better than - he did. He ignored how Aries was slowly wedging himself out from under Scorpio’s heel._ _

__“So. An explanation, or at least as much information on this as I have. We were all drawn here for as much reason as she explained - a correct alignment of multiple random factors, both in this reality and in our individual own, and perhaps many other unknown multi-dimensional factors. She is our anchor, and more importantly her soul is providing harmonics, a . . feedback effect that is stabilizing mine, and I wager is having the same effect on all your souls based on what we all just experienced. There is also one more factor, one that she is unaware of.” Dings paused, staring at the one human in the room as he let what he’d said sink in._ _

__“I am . . not certain if this applies to all of you, but it should be easily confirmed.” Taking a deep breath, he closed his eye sockets, thinking back over the last two months. “She is a potential soulmate for me, and possibly any one of you as well. Possibly all of you.”_ _

__The room went cold, the little signs of it being lived-in - cherished mementos arranged in decorative clutter . . . now just enhancing the sensation of being an intruder. Each of them stared blankly out at the world, not really seeing the flowers worked into the artwork, the recurring signs of the sea in room in the growing gloom. The birds chirping outside seemed incredibly loud and out of place as the sunlight finally faded entirely, the automated lights outside turning on._ _

__The stunned - or perhaps shocked - silence only lasted a few seconds before Aries shoved his way to his feet with a snarl. His expression was dark and thunderous as he stalked across the room, nearly shoving the coffee table into the couch or stepping on Murphy. As he stomped through the hallway, Aries gritted out, “Soulmates are a **lie** to placate the _weak and hopeless_. I refuse to listen to more of this _trite_ **bullshit**.”_ _

__As they watched, he stalked through the main hallway and into the library, two red summoned hands pulling those pocket doors shut behind him._ _

__Gemini tapped his chin with one hand, resting his elbow on his other hand as he drifted casually off the couch to a bit above the coffee table. “I suspect there is a history behind that statement . . . but please, Dings, do elaborate on what you were saying.”_ _

__Dings nodded, clearing his throat. “Is there a specific item you wished to ask on? At this point I have stated all that I do know about this situation - she is stabilizing our very existences with her own soul’s harmonics, and she is a potential soulmate. At the very least for me.”_ _

__Looking at the human, Murphy finally spoke, fidgeting with a few threads from the carpet. “What d’ya mean by potential soulmate? I always heard it was one ‘n done.”_ _

__“Soulmate potential is just that - an ideal matchup. It is not an automatic bond, or -” Clearing his throat behind a hand, Dings then took a few moments to straighten his posture, tucking both hands behind his back. And whatever he was going to say back in the back of his mind. “Yes, as I was saying, soulmate potential is just that - the potential to be a soulmate with someone. It is not an automatic connection, or automatic bond. But forming one with her would be . . . incredibly easy, and fast, compared to usual soulbonds. It does not help that she seems to be compatible with an astounding number of monsters. There are a few factors that mitigate this.”_ _

__Slowly Dings let his gaze slide around the room, starting with Murphy and moving onwards. “First is that she seems utterly oblivious to romantic overtures - flirting is deflected almost always without hesitation. The few times I have witnessed even tentative flirting back has been with monsters she has known for years.”_ _

__Those words sit bitterly on his tongue, but he shoves the useless thought to the side and moves on._ _

__“Second, compared to examples in human media, or even just watching the neighbors, she has shown little need or wish for anything more than company with friends on a regular basis. She has also outright dissected romances shown in human media to an incredibly nuanced degree.”_ _

__Tilting his head slightly as a thought occurred to him, Dings walked over to the coffee table, staring down thoughtfully at the human. “The last I will keep to myself for now, as I would like all of your unbiased appraisals on it at a later date. Plus, much of the terminology is easier to research on one’s own - she has plenty of reference material in the library.”_ _

__Adjusting his gloves, Mr. EdgyMcDisney casually settled even more heavily into the armchair he was inverted on, his heels lightly kicking in the air as he turned his head to look over at the library doors. “Right, where he’s sulking.”_ _

__Dings made a lightly dismissive gesture. “There are individual rooms each of you can claim upstairs as a temporary solution, although two of you may have to share. And there is little point in sleeping on the couch in the library. On that note, you will also need phones . . damn, I need to tell Sans - nevermind, I’ll handle tha- WHAT ARE YOU-.”_ _

__Mr. EdgyMcDisney, the Gaster in his very punk robe and fingerless gloves had abruptly grinned, shooting to his feet and sauntering over to Dings. Sweeping an arm around the shorter Gaster’s shoulders, he forcefully shoved and spun them both around into the center of the room. Dings yelped and tried to shove away as Murphy scrambled back and out of the way. “Call me Razor.”_ _

__He smirked and pinned Dings a little more firmly under his arm, almost throttling him as he extended his other arm - and took a photo? Casually he saved the image and sent it on the phone in his hand before abruptly releasing Dings and dropping said phone in front of him.  
“So that’s who’s been trying to call you for the past hour, not ‘saltdog’? Almost a tragedy the phone’s not on vibrate.”_ _

__Dings cringed at that, giving the taller skeleton a horrified glance before shutting down his expression. Snatching up his phone from the floor, he gave the impertinent bastard his coldest stare before heading towards the main hall - and the front door.  
“I will be back shortly.”_ _

__“ . . . eeew.” The dapper skeleton still sitting against the upright piano in the corner grimaced, giving Razor a disgusted look. Which Razor ignored in favor of browsing through the collection of DVDs he found in the cabinet under the television. After a few minutes he picked one and puzzled out how to use the DVD player._ _

__Mr. Checkboard Boots shivered dramatically, then rose. Wandering across the living room, he settled down on the couch, putting the human’s legs across his lap rather than moving her before she woke. He ignored Scorpio’s glare for doing so, or that Murphy quietly shambled across the floor to curl up in the space between the couch and coffee table, leaning his skull against the human lightly._ _

__If any of them wanted to, they could look out the window at Dings pacing up and down the porch outside, phone practically glued to the side of his head. At one point, the muffled Gaster outside did something with his phone that included pointing it at them inside. Razor took this as an opportunity to flip him off._ _

__Gemini manifested hands to stack up the few empty pizza boxes still in the living room, which had been forgotten in the wake of Aries storming out. All of them ended up just . . . waiting. Even if Gemini and Scorpio ended up in a fascinating discussion about planar physics and the unified magic field._ _

__You gave a sleepy giggle, murmuring “Neeeerds.”_ _


	5. Balancing Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best part of waking up, is the . . . skeletons . . invading . . your living room?
> 
> Something like that.

Coming up out of sleep was . . . definitely much nicer than passing out. Drowsy, comfortable, and somebody was petting your hair. That always felt _so good_ , relaxing you again almost immediately. 

There were some damned delicious voices you could hear conversing - in a pattern you recognized as serious nerding out. Growing up in a family full of engineers and Sci-Fi fans, well, it taught you what that sounded like.

“Neeerds.”  
You’d teased your family that way, and they’d always laughed. The word slips out without a thought, but you end up wondering if you’d misstepped when they just jolt and the conversation abruptly stops. The hand on your hair stops too, which is even sadder. Turning your head slightly, you gave Scorpio a sleepy smile. “Thank you.”

Scorpio seemed briefly . . out of sorts, before giving you a small smile. A light pat on your ankle draws your attention down the couch towards - you flush, realizing your legs are in a stranger’s lap. The dapperly dressed skeleton with checkerboard boots seems utterly comfortable with this, just giving a little wave and a smile.

Briefly you wonder how he avoided staining his gloves with the pizza. Oh, wait, he’s talking.

“-decided to go by Razor, Miss. Do you have a nickname that you think would suit me?”

_Oh no he’s **cute**._

That little smile, that hopeful sparkle - damnit he does the thing, the Papyrus thing - and curse it all he’s taller than you. By . . quite a bit, actually. As you ~~scramble for thought~~ consider options for him, he tilts his head slightly. And somehow that has a word popping out of your mouth. “Keet.”

You almost immediately want to take it back. But he’s smiling and he just seems so _pleased_ and . . . he probably has no idea that it’s short for parakeet. Because he reminded you of them, cute and colorful and energetic. ~~You kinda wonder if he’d beep too if startled.~~

Smiling back, you try to sit - and flinch before settling back. Entirely missing the room-wide twitch, or how Dings nearly stumbles outside. But not the muffled swearing now coming from the direction of the library. Sure, you can’t understand a word of it, but angry swearing has a tone and inflection that is unmistakable.

Looking up, you give Scorpio’s flat expression an apologetic smile. “Ow . . Sorry? . . I won’t try to move again, for a bit.”

Scorpio simply gives you a long, steady stare in reply. Smiling sheepishly, you turn your head to look around the room. The next ten minutes pass in awkward silence, until Dings finally steps back inside. Without a word he stalks across to the library doors, yanking them open just enough to hiss at the skeleton inside. 

_“Are these yours?”_  
Dings stares nearly straight into the shorter skeleton’s glare, noting the almost excessive scarring - and the missing gap of skull that outright broke a bit of his right eyesocket, cracks and clear blade marks stretching out from the damage. It was impressive the furious skeleton even had sight in that eye, honestly. At least sight enough to see what was on the phone Dings more or less shoved in his face.

As he watched, those eyelights went wide with shock before narrowing down to pinpoints as they rose to Dings face. Aries grabbed for the wrist holding the phone, gripping harshly as he gritted out one word. _“Where.”_

“Three hours ago, Elder Puzzler - the one I know - _finally_ left Mount Ebbot. The barrier immediately returned. As of half an hour ago it came down again, and these are the monsters that emerged. I ask again, _are they yours_.”

_“Where is the way there.”_

“Damnit you asshole! It’s not as if any of us can go there!”

**“Where.”**

Slowly moving in around the edges of the confrontation, Gemini leaned slightly over Dings shoulder to first study Aries face, then slip a hand over Dings arm and steal his phone. Ignoring (and sidestepping . . . side-drifting?) their fury, he studied the face caught on the camera. “It is very clear from his reaction they probably are. Unfortunately, our hostess is still in no state to travel.”

“You-”

“And I for one, at least, do not want a repeat of earlier.”

Aries came to an abrupt halt, his mix of anger and fear jolted by the chill that ran down his spine. He wouldn’t have survived the war if he didn’t have some sense of self-preservation. And the glance that Gemini had directed his way had been colder than had thought possible of the taller skeleton. ~~It seriously pissed him off that the others were all taller than him~~

“I think I’d barf if it happened again!” You put in cheerfully from the living room, not seeing Scorpio’s brief flicker of disgusted alarm. You hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation - well not very well at least - but you had heard Gemini’s last comment.

Also, your butt was vibrating.

First you had to register that, then idly dig under yourself to track down which pocket in your shorts actually held your phone. Just in time, you swipe to accept the call and hold the flashing device of telecommunication and video games up to your ear. “Y’ello? Kiddo, what’s up?”

Five minutes later, you were hanging up and contemplating if headaches were contagious. It might just be a side effect of Aries going for walkies ~~oh god he would _kill_ you if you ever phrased it that way out loud~~ earlier, considering you’d gotten a headache when Dings tried it a month ago. With a grunt, you slowly levered yourself upright, and stare at the conversation/argument you’d been ignoring in order to have one on your phone.

As you watched Aries threatened not just Dings, but Razor (who was amused) and Murphy (who was just trying to hide behind Gemini) as he yelled . . . something. In wingdings. You could really get to hating that font, considering you were certain they were talking in english. Just not in something your brain could interpret.

At least as far as you could understand this whole ‘font’ business. Sans had explained it three times before writing and submitting a scientific paper on the whole thing. You also had no idea when Razor and Murphy joined the cluster near Aries.

Taking a breath, you give Keet and Scorpio an apologetic smile, before projecting your voice in your closest drill sergeant impersonation.   
_**“YO QUIERO TACO BELL.”**_

Stupid, but . . it worked? You were suddenly the center of attention! And had some sharp bone attacks pointed your way. But they were pointed at the others too, so you decided to not take it personally. Waving a hand lightly, you rolled with it and spoke into the sudden silence. “Just a heads up, we’re gonna have guests arriving soon. Less than ten minutes in fact. So why don’t we get you all settled into rooms so you can rest, study, whatever at your leisure and privacy?”

Carefully (and creakily) standing, you add, “Some of you are going to have to share a room. Or at least a bathroom.”

Ignoring all the protests - and comments - you wove your way through the group and towards the main stairs. Gradually your flock of very tall ~~attractive~~ skeletons trickled up the stairs after you, pausing on the landing and the upper third of the flight as you paused by the first door. “This is the fern room . . smallest, one bed, small closet . . hey! Murphy, will this work for you?”

“Wh-hat-t?”

Pushing the door open, you turn to give him a smile. Which you somehow keep on your face and gently reassuring with the scared deer-in-headlights look he’s giving you. Aries snarls from where he’s . . kinda boxed into the middle of the group with Razor. But then Razor is deliberately leaning just a little bit into his personal space.

Just great. Many tall ~~sexy~~ skeletons, and at least one of them is one of _those_ kinds of jerks.

A summoned hand lightly flicked Razor on the back of the skull, although you had no idea who had cyan magic. Besides possibly Keet . . ? But Keet was encouragingly nudging Murphy up to stand besides you at the open door. You stepped back, gesturing for the nervous skeleton to take a good look inside.

It genuinely wasn’t a very big room - most of the floor space was taken up by the queen bed the last residents had shoved up against the corner opposite the door. The built-in desk to the left of the door was nice, and lead the eye to the real appeal of the room (besides the soothing fern-print wallpaper). Several windows, a bit narrow but tall, that stretched up most of the outside wall. The amount of natural light in the room was impressive, even now after sundown..

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling a little as you watched Murphy wander around the room. Looking at the skeletons that crowded nearby, you smiled. “All of the rooms have as many windows as could be safely fit - it was considered fashionable at the time when the house was built, and honestly, with the views they had back then it was worth it.”

Turning, you started pointing at the other doors visible, only briefly nodding down the hallway that lead off past the doorway you were standing in. “That’s the linen closet - used to be for storage, but I just stash towels and bedding in there now. If you need more blankets, that’s where to check. The door with the red inset lead to the red room - Aries, why don’t you check it out?”

“Oh, that’s the old master bedroom, it’s got a divider in it to set up two semi-private sleeping areas. It shares a bathroom with that room, the green room. That one can sleep two as well, tho it only has one big bed. And that last door here is the one to the attic - that’s a separate apartment, with it’s own bathroom, living room, bedroom, balcony, and kitchen. It’s a good size, so it’s set up for three right now.”

A pause, and you tapped your chin before pointing down the hallway. “That’s where the public bathroom is behind the door on the left opposite the stairs, said second stairs, and Dings’ room is. His is the paisley room - there’s a second bed in there too.”

There’s a moment of silence after the verbal tour . . and then quick motion as the group of skeletons move to open doors and look. Much to your amusement, there’s a bit of a logjam at the doorway to the apartment. And Aries outright double-checks that the closet is just a closet.

Then arms wrap around you from behind, startling you. The hug is brief, and Murphy practically skitters away almost right away, but there’s a faint hint of a smile on his face as he moves to stare out the windows again. Warmed, you decide against saying anything, just smiling back before turning back to the chaos.

Aries was _still_ double-checking the closet? Was he expecting you to have hidden weapons in there? A secret passage to the basement? Porn? Whatever it was he wasn’t finding, there were definitely disgruntled noises coming from the closet.

You’re about to wander over and make obnoxious humming noises nonchalantly nearby him when there’s some shouting from the open stairwell going up. Was that a ‘who the hell are you?’ - it had that cadence and intonation, at least.

Great.

Upstairs were answers, and definitely more questions. And the most serene-looking skeleton you’d encountered yet. He . . she? Honestly, while the others had a more distinctly gendered look to them, this one was very much on the gender fence and dressed so flamboyantly they were only a fluffy wig of curls with braids short of looking like a hippie from the 60’s. From space. With a modified labcoat.

Their expression brightened as you climbed the last steps, and they dreamily drifted over to you - somehow crossing half the apartment much faster than they looked to. Taking one of your hands in both of theirs, they beamed at you. “Hey there Miss, you’re the landlady, right? The one keeping all our souls t’gether and owns this fantaaastic place. Do you like brownies?”

They smile sweetly as they let loose with one hand to gently push your jaw back up, drifting to one side just enough that the bone attack from Aries misses entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! We've officially met all the Gasters now! This chapter turned out shorter, just . . . how it turned out.
> 
> Next chapter will officially list all the Gasters by AU and nickname, so stay tuned! :)


	6. Casing The Joint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brownies, Blasters, and Blankets! Also, hitting one's limit in being social - not fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Blasters make a 'borf' sound when excited/wanting to point something out.

“-so yeah, just call me Moon Unit!”

Really, you should be helping out with whatever all that arguing is about in the main hall, but you were just _mesmerized_. Not only was this skeleton the hands-down _prettiest_ you’d seen, they- no, he, did mention he prefers male pronouns - he was baking you brownies. In your kitchen.

While floating like an astronaut on the space shuttle.

_What is your life now._

Clearing your throat, you fold your arms to rest on the back of the chair you’re sitting on - backwards - as you watch Moon Unit float around the kitchen. “Why Moon Unit though?”

He just shrugs, tossing you a carefree smile. Lifting a hand, you rub your forehead for a few seconds before plunging onwards. “Okay, why didn’t you show up downstairs with the others . . ?”

“Oh, I was the first to arrive! I left to look around and headed upstairs - this is a beautiful building. And then there was that bird flying outside the windows . . ”

“ . . you just left and ended up in the attic?”

“Well, there was that cute bird outside the window, or was it a cat . . ? I've never actually seen either before, to be honest.” He shrugged, and leaned down to boop your nose - while floating upside-down himself. Behind him, cyan and yellow summoned hands were busily cutting the brownies that had just come out of the oven. One is quickly transferred to a plate and floated over to you.

Out of habit you accepted the plate and absently picked up the brownie. Hey, you didn’t get these curves just from genetics after all - and the baked goods? Smelled _incredible_. Still studying Moon Unit - he didn’t have scars, he had engravings, bizarre symbology that looked weirdly familiar. One line worked up from his right eye over his head, and widened over his temple to something larger and more intricate. Now that he was so close, you could actually see magic pulsing slowly through the thin lines . . . it was very prominent in the other line of engravings, which covered the right cheekbone and curled down to his neck, disappearing underneath the wide collar of his shirt..

It all looked really familiar. 

Like, from something-you-watched-last-week levels of familiar.

Your eyes narrowed as you studied the design, tilting your head to study the larger stripe on his skull. His smile widened and he obligingly turned his head to give you a better view. The motion plus the shape was enough to trigger the memory. “Whoa, is that Cybertronian? Like, from Transformers? Oooh, those look like the runework from the movies . . . aaand that’s Daedric script too, isn’t it.”

His wide-eyed look was confirmation enough. Smugly, you took a victory bite of your brownie. And **bliss** happened in your mouth. It was a _divine_ brownie, just the perfect level of sweetness to bitter cacao, silky-soft and dense on your tongue. The magic fizz of the imbued ingredients was enhancing the feel and taste, and it took quite a bit of will to not moan.

Wait, nope, you were shameless about your love of baked goods.

You moaned in bliss, eyes rolling up before you closed them to savor the bite in your mouth. “Oh _holy fuck_ this is good . . “

Entirely missing the blush that sweeps over Moon Unit’s skull, cyan and yellow glowing everywhere except the etched lines - those are much, much paler than this, and currently very visible. Very quietly, muffled by his hand he murmurs, “Oh dear, this is going to be harder than I thought.”

Clearing his throat (somehow? There were gestures all the skeletons did that baffled you a bit), Moon Unit asked, “It’s good then?”

“It is divine! Hide the pan before I go after them!” You blurt out in a moment of self-control before you take another bite with yet another moan, nearly finishing off the portion he’d given you. Eyes fluttering closed again, you tried to linger over the sweet treat, loving how it warmed and soothed you, comfort and bliss sweeping through you.

It wasn’t until you were licking the last traces and crumbs from your fingers that you realized that the tight, tugging ache in your chest was down to just a vague memory. . . and Moon Unit wasn’t in the kitchen. 

And neither were the brownies.  
“Damnit!”

You had a new mission, should you choose to accep- wait, what happened to the argument in the main hall? Wistfully setting aside dreams of more brownies, you quickly put the plate by the sink and headed out to find out what was going on. And found a distinct lack of skeletons on the first floor. At all.

It was baffling and alarming and the _door to the **basement** was open_.

For safety reasons, that door was never left open!

You thunder halfway down the stairs before you catch sight of what’s actually going on in the basement and end up clinging to the railing next to the rickety steps. Originally your grandfather had a workshop here, and there had been a second kitchen installed - both had been taken out when you converted the home for renting. The stairs were hazardous, being designed back when the house was built and thus at least an inch too high per step for comfort. And right now?

The basement was _full of blasters _. As you watched a few of the floating skulls started wrestling, some small ones playfully nipping at and chasing each other under the protectively watchful eyelights of the big ones.__

__There were big ones, small ones, scarred ones, some that had horns that curved forwards, some that the horns went back, and at least one set that all had corkscrew horns. . . . Maybe two, you could see at least two variations on that. A little one near the stairs noticed you, and yipped loudly before zipping off behind a big one it resembled. All of a sudden, you were the focus of a great many eyelights. Some curious (as far as you could tell), and some hostile (those were outright growling)._ _

__The few you were somewhat familiar with drifted over to give you a sniff and whine for pats. Moving slowly, you gently reach out and give them a few gentle pats, rubbing a light finger around an eyesocket here and there. The big darlings were Dings’ - he’d summoned them when you scared him out of his wits by accident (you both knew better about knocking on bathroom doors first now) and had nearly been blasted. But the floating skulls had almost immediately decided you were a Good Person and Giver Of Pets._ _

__This was not entirely atypical of your experiences with animals. Having allergies had trained you rigorously in how to avoid having them get too close/excited, and you’d never wanted to scare them in the first place. Cats seemed to particularly appreciate your calm around them. By trying to shed on you._ _

__Right now you were decidedly relieved these particular blasters were in the group, as the tension in the air eases as they prove calm and happy to see you. Some of the others are drifting over to give you a sniff, others stay out of arm’s reach and watch without snarling. Very soon many are demanding their turn for pets. Way too many, but how can you turn them down??_ _

__Your calves are screaming from being trapped on the awkwardly one-inch-too-high stairs by the time you can make your escape._ _

__Shutting the basement door, you groan and rub a hand over your face. “Right, gotta go find skeletons. Hopefully not in my closet or wearing my clothes. . . . that might be hot. Or funny. Or really discouraging . . eeenh nope nope no na na na na na na na na _batman_!”_ _

__You moved through the house as you rambled, doing one more check of the first floor - still no skeletons - after having been trapped petting blasters for half an hour or so. In all honesty you were hitting your social limit pretty hard, but your grandmother’s rules of hospitality were still nagging at you. Make sure every guest has a bed and a blanket, has been fed, and knows where the bathrooms are._ _

__With a groan, you head up the back hall stairs to the second floor, deciding to check in on Dings’ room first. There’s clearly someone in the bathroom - more than one, going by the confused alarm in one voice and the other reassuring them in a very tired sort of way. Tilting your head to listen, you figure at least one of them is Dings, and the other is . . possibly Keet? You overhear something about 'imbued food' in Dings' voice, and what's probably going on clicks into place._ _

__Either way, you’re muffling giggles as you quickly check the bedroom before heading down the hallway. The room is empty, and you quickly get a spare blanket for each bed before moving on. While the day was warm, this house cools off pretty darn quickly after dark._ _

__Humming softly to yourself, you knock lightly on the door to the fern room after grabbing another blanket. At the confused/wary ‘yes?’ from inside, you open the door just enough to speak clearly. “Hello Murphy, I’m just bringing a spare blanket - it gets cold at night.”_ _

__He eyes you from inside the room, barely visible through the small opening. After a moment, he pulls the door further open, stepping back to let you in. You stepped in awkwardly - curse your hips! - through the slightly-too-narrow-opening, accidentally bumping the door fully open. The faint of scent of chocolate was in the air . . did Moon Unit give Murphy a brownie? Kinda smelled like it._ _

__Offering up the blanket in your arms with a sheepish smile, you say. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bump it out of your hands. Here, just thought you could use this.”_ _

__A moment’s hesitation, and Murphy finally reaches out to take the blanket. It strikes you as a bit odd he does it directly, rather than using summoned hands . . . but then they’re all different from each other. Maybe he just doesn’t like using them as much as Dings does._ _

__Shoving onwards through the awkward, you give Murphy a smile and a little wave as you step back through the doorway. “Hope you sleep well! Good night.” And with that you pull the doors shut, almost missing his small smile and raspy-quiet ‘Good Night’ in reply._ _

__Honestly he seemed a bit confused by the phrase._ _

__But you had blankets to deliver! And no way were you doing the apartment upstairs next - those can be delivered last, frankly. You need a bit more of a break before more stairs. Considering how tall all these skeletons are, you’d be a bit surprised if they were using the built-in beds up there instead of whoever-it-is sleeping on the couch._ _

__Grabbing a new armful, you then walk over to the red room, knocking on the door. Whatever argument is going on in there abruptly cuts off. “Blanket delivery!”_ _

__You could hear the rumble of voices inside after a few seconds, then the creak of footsteps heading close to the door. The one who opens the door isn’t one of your skeletons, or the ones visiting for the night (although you can see all of them looming/lurking almost awkwardly nearby, the shortest looking decidedly un-intimidating with a smear of chocolate across one cheekbone), but the one human who came with the group. She- _They_ smile at you a bit sheepishly, tugging on their red-and-black striped sweater a bit before offering their arms to take the blankets.  
You were pretty sure the crumbs on their face were from a brownie. Ah well, better than you binging on the pan later._ _

__And honestly it was rather charming that Moon Unit was willing to share those brownies._ _

__Eyeing the three skeletons in the room - you had no idea if the other two had picked nicknames, and honestly you were too tired to worry about it right now - as the significantly-older-than-the-one-you-know-Frisk began depositing blankets on beds, you watched as they gradually bristled. Oh god the short one’s fur collar on his coat also fluffed up like an angry cat. It was adorable. And the fact they all tensed up the exact same way clinched it. Giving Aries a small smile, you commented, “I can see the family resemblance. Sweet dreams, please don’t break any part of the building.”_ _

__And shut the door as Aries sputtered and started swearing at you._ _

__Honestly, you had been expecting a more violent reaction out of him. But blankets were delivered to that room, and you had more to hand out. Grabbing a few more, you headed for the old master bedroom next. The next delivery was . . very undramatic, honestly._ _

__Razor just gave you a blank look after he opened the door, half a brownie sticking out of his mouth for a split second before a swipe of a cyan tongue made it disappear. You’ve always wanted, but never gotten a good look at Dings’ tongue. Curse how pretty magic made it look._ _

__He took the blanket on top of the stack you were holding, and shut the door again. Blinking at the rather non-event, you shrugged and moved to the next room - the green room. That one, the door opened to reveal Scorpio._ _

__You promptly blushed heavily - you had not been expecting her to answer the door in little more than a long shirt with a scandalously low neckline. Scrambling for words, you offered the pile of blankets her way. “It’s cold! Night time! Um . . . blanket? Because it gets cold?”_ _

__As your voice trails off, she covers her mouth with a hand, not exactly hiding her laughter. A pair of summoned hands lifts the top blanket off the pile, and carry it past Scorpio to the bed. Another hand brushes down your cheek, sending shivers down your back as Scorpio leans in a bit to meet your gaze directly. “How utterly charming. Sleep well, my dear.”_ _

__Still smirking, she draws back and calmly shuts the door. You? You bury your face in the blankets and give a soft scream, face completely red. Almost stiffly you turn and start up the stairs to the third floor/attic apartment. The effort gave you something else to focus on, and by the time you reached the top of the stairs you were sure the blush was gone._ _

__Mostly sure._ _

__Okay, _not at all sure_. Apparently both Gemini and Moon Unit didn’t believe in lounging in anything other than shorts! While floating around to look out the big windows that spanned nearly floor to ceiling on one side of the oddly-shaped apartment. _ _

__Seeing both of them nearly starkers definitely points out the differences from a human skeleton - while vaguely shaped like the bones, their feet are clearly a solid piece (more or less, Moon Unit has matching holes through his like his hands). Their ribs were thicker, with less space between them, and their bones overall were thicker than you’d thought._ _

__Their spines were solid columns, curved and solid and entirely to aesthetically appealing. As you watched, Gemini stretched a bit, and semi-reclined in the air. You could see his ribcage flexing and stretching unlike a human one, one side spreading a bit further apart, the other closing up the gaps between ribs a bit._ _

__Moon Unit’s tattoos went down the entire length of his body, disappearing down his spine into his shorts and reappeared on his right femur to spiral down to curl around the hole in his foot. They were chatting softly in wingdings as you stared, utterly gobstopped at how . . elegant they were mid-air. They moved with sheer graceful beauty of fish in their natural element, a dreamy leisure in particular to each graceful sweep of the hand as they emphasized some phrase with a gesture._ _

__As you sputter quietly, Gemini notices you’re here - and blushes himself, abruptly lunging for where his shirt is neatly draped over one of the stools by the kitchen island._ _

__He blushes purple/yellow. He has _freckles_! This does nothing to calm your fluster.  
 _Why are **all** these tall skeletons so damned appealing??__ _

__You can’t cope with this right now. Bright red in the face, you drop off the pile of blankets on the chair nearest you and thunder down the stairs. Calling over your shoulder, “Sorry! JustblanketsforthecoldholycrapIdidnotmeanyou’rbothhotNAKEDoh-”_ _

__Moon Unit blinks in surprise, and starts giggling at the high-pitched, flustered squeak that trails up the stairway before the door down below half-slams shut. “Oh, now that was _adorable_.”_ _

__“She saw us naked!” Gemini sounded outright mortified as he buried his face in his hands. Moon Unit just clicks soothingly, and reaches out to pat Gemini’s shoulder. “Maybe she liked what she saw.”_ _

___“That doesn’t help!”_ _ _

__Outside, you were just done with the day. Just _done_. You were certain you were blushing hard enough to glow as you headed down the back stairs, vaguely noticing that the bathroom was empty of tall skeletons. Which was a ~~disappointment~~ relief - with how the day was going, catching yet more of them mostly naked would have just been . . . way too much. You'd gone from having only seen one very tall ~~sexy~~ skeleton mostly naked by accident to **four** in the span of less than an hour. _ _

__Not even bothering with the usual, you walked straight through the small back hall to the side door, and out into the side yard. Which was rather narrow compared to the front and back yards, and provided a lovely view of the neighbor’s two story ultra-modern (for the 60’s) home. You ignored the building most of the time._ _

__In fact you vaguely had the idea that it was currently empty and up for sale. Maybe you could let Sans know, or Alphys . . ? You’d met the former Royal Scientist some time ago when she first came to give Dings a checkup and establish a baseline for his change rate. You’d worn a Ranma ½ t-shirt and had quoted several lines from Slayers in order to annoy Dings, triggering a gleeful otaku meltdown._ _

__The appointment had eventually happened, after a great deal of excited bonding over anime and merchandise. And pizza. And eventually over Undyne after you’d met Alphys’ girlfriend, although you weren’t entirely comfortable with her intensity yet._ _

__As your mind wanders back over those days ~~and away from too-attractive and appealing skeletons~~ it’s sheer habit that guides your feet through the back gate, around the shed that used to be a garden patch, and to the stairs leading up to your semi-detached apartment over what used to be the carriage stables. The building had been converted into a garage a long while ago, and the upper loft turned into a studio apartment you now used as Landlady._ _

__It was your refuge._ _

__No renter was allowed in here without your permission, and no-one could easily look in the windows. Not even the neighbors._ _

__Sure, the bathtub was out in the open - you’d found a nice old-fashioned screen to hide it partially from the door - but it was one you could actually fit your hips into for a good soak. For a while as a teen you’d cursed your genetics, giving you the curves and wide build you had. And then you’d out bench-pressed all of the boys in gym the one time you got to do weight lifting. That hadn’t miraculously changed everything, but it had planted the seed that lead to your current contentment with your body._ _

__And sometimes amusement with it.  
The toilet was in little more than a closet, but that was fine. Otherwise there was space, especially for the cal king bed you’d bought decades ago. It had been your first big purchase, and you’d loyally dragged it from apartment to apartment to here. You knew exactly where it was in the room, and where your dresser and your mini-kitchens' appliances were._ _

__It was yours, and just yours._ _

__With a sigh of relief, you felt for matches in the top drawer of the dresser you kept next to the door. It takes very little time to light the first candle, and with it’s light, not much longer to light the rest. The soft light does little to reveal the rich colors of your bedspread, but memory fills those in well enough._ _

__You’re home._ _

__You’re alone._ _

__And there is nothing you need more right now than to fill your bath, a short session with the foam roller to start loosening tense muscles, and a bit of reheated pizza for dinner. It was well past time for a little self-care._ _


	7. Rains Down In Africa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings are bleh to begin with. It's even more aggravating with all these skeletons. You don't need even more hearing loss. (also the Underground was weirder than known)

Morning has you waking in a bit of a blurry haze, seriously tempted to wrap yourself back in your nest of pillows and blankets and just sleep until noon. Your bladder puts the nix on that idea. After dealing with that necessity, you’re much too awake to not listen to the nagging thought in your head that you should get breakfast ready for everybody, despite the fact it’s summer break . . . As you step out into the morning fog, the cool is enough to nudge your memory into spitting out the fact that the house is currently full of skeletons.

Oh well, you’re hungry anyways, and Miguel fixed the stereo system in the main house anyways.

Hauling on some pajama bottoms and your slippers, you make your drowsy way to the main house, ignoring all the little eyelights watching you from the basement windows. And the borfing trying to catch your attention. You just don’t have the mental capacity to deal with that before coffee, and the keurig was in the main kitchen. Because of . . . reasons. 

Most of those reasons used to be students and finals, but nowadays it was easier than waking up to find Dings lurking in your studio apartments’ kitchenette. His addiction to coffee was several degrees worse than yours. Which is why he was banned from the coffee cabinet.

Yawning almost fit to make your jaw pop, you nudge the back door open and wander into the kitchen. There’s a very tall skeleton in there you only vaguely remember from last night. Actually, compared to at least half of the others you met yesterday, he’s . . almost short. 

Still taller than you, though.

And glaring at you warily.

As he goes to open his mouth, you hold up a finger for one minute. “Jus’ lemme get coffee. An’ . . oh yeh . . “

Ignoring the blatant confusion and suspicion in his stare you feel drilling into your head, you turn and head out into the doorway leading to the main hall, opening up the door under the main stairs. It’s a tiny, awkward closet, but a perfect spot for the main part of the building soundsystem. Which is why your grandfather did it originally, and why some of your uncles - and Aunt Miechell - put in the time to update it as new technology came out.

“Hey, Alexa, play morning playlist six at volume five. Include remote unit Betelgeuse.”  
A boop, and music started up throughout the first floor - and vibrating up to the upper levels, down from the attic where the remote unit was. Ahh, all the 80’s rock guitar and piano you could want first thing in the morning. Shutting the door again, you head back to the kitchen . . . where you have a distinctly on-edge skeleton. 

Glee. 

Trying to smile reassuringly - though seriously, you just want to grump and whine about being awake right now - you say, “Are you familiar with the band ‘Toto’? This is one of my favorites by them.”

As you talk, you move through the kitchen fearlessly, although a bit slower than usual. Seriously, he seems wound almost as tight as Murphy was last night, and you get the impression it wouldn’t be a good idea to startle or alarm him. Weirdly, he made you more nervous about an accidental stabbing or something than Aries did . . . Whatever, you had coffee to make. 

Which was a simple as picking out your coffee for the day after turning on the keurig. Today already seemed to be one that required a nice big cup of ‘Deathwish’. You’d make jokes about the skull and crossbones, but honestly you’d been drinking the brand in carefully limited amounts for years.

After a moment’s thought, you plucked out about ten more pods of different blends from the cabinet before shutting and locking it again.Turning around to head for the fridge, you nearly jump out of your skin to find grim skeleton standing right behind you. At least his expression seemed more intrigued than hostile.  
“WHAT IS THAT, HUMAN?”

“Oh, it’s my favorite brand of coffee.” At the slight bit of blankness to his expression, you elaborated. “It’s a surface drink made from roasted, ground beans of a particular plant. It’s got a very distinct kind of flavor, and it’s good at boosting energy levels. At least for humans . . . it’s way, _way_ too effective at that for Dings. So he gets either black tea or decaffeinated coffee.”

At the almost aggressively curious stare, you added a bit more. “He deep-cleaned the entire house. Three times. In one day.”

As the wheels turn in his head, and he starts snickering, you get underway in brewing coffee - with the music on Dings is going to wander downstairs pretty soon, and you’re sure the others are going to follow. You also put the kettle on the stove - who knows, some may prefer tea.

“So, are you helping me make breakfast?”  
There’s a sharp edge to your nonchalance in asking that, an underlying challenge, with you watching his expression out of the corner of your eye. This could backfire - he reminds you more of Undyne than the sweet (and you suspect pyromaniacal) Papyrus you know. But this might work to get to know him better.

You can’t tell if the narrowed eyesockets is a good or a bad sign. But you’re not backing down on this as you casually pull out the flat of eggs from the fridge, and two packs of bacon. Costco is a blessing when feeding college students.

And you suspect just as much so when feeding many skeletons.

As you watch, his eyes narrow further, and there’s something sharp and almost a smile quirking up his mouth. “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, HUMAN.”

 _What follows is the most challenging half-hour of your life so far._  
You had to outright challenge him to actually listen and cook your way to prove his mastery of the style to get him to stop adding horrible or outright inedible things to . . well, everything. It was almost hilarious, considering he was doing all the same sort of thing as the Papyrus you know, but for an entirely different reason - to ‘toughen up’ the eater, instead of Pap’s bizarre fixation on aesthetic.

This came to a head when he tried putting vinegar in the scrambled eggs. Outright snatching it out of his hands, you glared at him. “What the _hell?!_ Do you not even _taste your own cooking or something?!_ There is absolutely no reason to put vinegar-”

“OF COURSE YOUR WEAK BODY IS NOT UP TO THE SUPERIOR QUALITY OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS’S EXQUISITE CUISINE!”

 _“There is no reason to put **vinegar** in scrambled eggs!_ Unless you like your food bitter and sour and a disgusting slimy texture!”

“THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, YOU WRETCHED HUMAN! HOW DARE YOU LECTURE THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS!” He leans down to glare directly in your eyes, a sharp bone pressed to your throat as you glare back at him. You’re scared, yes, but mostly? You’re just pissed at the potentially spoiled food. As he opens his mouth to yell at you again, you snatch a biscuit from the cooling rack and shove it in his mouth. “Actually **taste** the damn thing.”

He gags, you glare. A moment passes before he releases your shirt (snapping your bra strap, but you ignore that) to hold the rest of the biscuit as he slowly chews what’s in his mouth. Straightening up, he frowns down at the biscuit in his hand as he swallows. “I . . Do Not Understand This. Why Does . . ?”

“It not taste like whatever a biscuit made in the Underground tastes like?” You sass, and he glares at you briefly for it. Ignoring the glare, you turn back to the eggs, checking them again before grabbing your spatula again. “Sans did a study on that, and released a paper nine years ago. There’d been a lot of confusion about it after the Barrier broke.”

You ignored the startled noise he made at Sans’ name, intent on stirring up the eggs and scraping them into a bowl as you talked. Up next was making a batch of sunny-side up.

“It turns out magic-only food is flavored by what the creator **thinks** the food should taste like, regardless of what actually goes into it. Resulting in a lot of food that looked like one thing and tasted like . . heavens knows what. Up here, imbued food is easier and more cost-efficient - both magically and in time and materials - so while it is as digestible for monsters, it still has all the flavor and _quirks_ of purely physical, non-magical food. And that includes the fact that some things just don’t work together, or need a bit more care to be properly edible, let alone tasty. Or at least don’t work together in their pure forms - you might want to add sriracha to your portion, if you don’t mind spice. Or prefer it.”

You turn once you’re done cracking eggs into the pan, turning to look up at his expression. And feel a chill going up your spine at the tight, narrow-eyed focus drilling into your skull from him. After a moment’s silence, as bacon hisses softly on the griddle and music continues to play on the house sound system, he straightens into a strict, ‘declaring’ kind of pose. You’ve definitely seen Papyrus do this. “HUMAN! YOU WILL TEACH ME TO MASTER THIS ‘IMBUED’ FOOD! I WILL MASTER THIS CHALLENGE AND DEFEAT ALL WHO COME BEFORE ME!.”

“ . . . right. How about I give you a list of shows to watch and learn from?” 

“THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! YOU HAVE POINTED OUT THIS GAP IN THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, AND I CANNOT HAVE ANY OTHER KNOWING OF IT!”

You firmly suppress the urge to roll your eyes at his growl, turning back to check the eggs and bacon. As you grab the tongs, you toss out, “Frankly, I’m probably not going to be able to leave this house for a few months _at the least._ Unless you’re willing to come over once a week for a cooking lesson - I do still have work and I know I’m going to have my hands full handling all these . . “

Your voice trails off as you realize you can feel someone staring at you. Pausing, you glance over at first the main hall entrance, then over to the back hall . . . . where a short (holy crap, an actually short skeleton) skeleton stands with black sockets. And a mob of Gasters behind him. 

Gawking.

You twitch, your grip tightening on the spatula.

_“That is **it,** you are all helping with this!”_

Ten minutes - and one bizarre moment where Razor groped your ass, earning a slap ~~which he seemed really pleased about~~ \- you’re at the dining table with ten skeletons and one other human. And a lot of breakfast food, from oatmeal to biscuits to bacon to three types of eggs, and a loaf’s worth of toast.

Your grandma taught you a lot about how to juggle feeding a lot of people. And using all six burners on the stove at once.

It’s only once everybody’s sitting that you realized Moon Unit is tall, even among all these tall skeletons. Gemini is the only one to come close to him in height, with Scorpio not far behind. They’re also all looking at the food with suspicion. Or maybe just doubt, as Keet seems outright confused as to what some of what he’s looking at is. 

Well, all of them other than . . your brain stalls for a few seconds, as you stare at Not-The-Frisk-You-Know. They’re busy spreading blueberry jam on their toast. Picking up your coffee mug (not to be confused with your tea mug, which has three times the capacity and is sitting on the other side of your plate), you decide to just ask. “I figure your name is Frisk, but is there anything else you’re okay with? The local one is . . . mmm, will be turning twenty-one this month.”

They pause at that, frowning a little. Resting their knife back on their plate, they took a bite of toast as they thought it over. You were fine with the pause - gave you time to start seasoning your eggs, starting with the mustard and sriracha on the table. _The spicy must flow._

You realize after catching a very odd expression on Hot Topic Papyrus’s face and an amused one on Dings, that you must have muttered that out loud. With a shrug you dig in. Mmm, scrambled eggs.

“Gorse. Call me Gorse.” Their voice is soft, but the lilt of the gaelic accent is just . . natural, rolling off the young adult’s tongue with ease. On their other side the short skeleton (he snarled when you asked politely for a name while making him carry out the toast) abruptly looks at them in alarm, his eyelights narrowing down to pinpricks. You look up in time to see him grip their arm, and how they gently pat his hand in reassurance. The open emotion is rather different from the Sans you know, despite the resemblance.

Somehow that puts a damper on the rest of the meal, despite the idle chit-chat that Keet and Gemini manage to keep up with Dings. Gorse doesn’t seem that inclined to talk (at least to you, as they spent part of the meal in quiet whispers with the skeleton beside them), and in full honesty you’re pretty hungry. Hungrier than usual, polishing off nearly twice your usual amount of food.

After the meal, Keet and Gemini started clearing the table without prompting, much to your surprise. Aries is quick to nab both of the new skeletons with a snarled _something_ \- short and tall are definitely also named Sans and Papyrus, that’s going to cause problems - and haul them off with Gorse trailing after them. 

Which left you standing in a room with six skeletons that all seemed to be glaring at each other to some degree. And Razor was starting to smirk in a way you didn’t entirely feel comfortable about. Even if it did send nice little shivers down your spine. Scratching an itch on your side casually, you finally threw a suggestion out into the room. “ . . . anybody want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

This was not one of your brighter ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick list of who's who!
> 
> Dings - Undertale Gaster  
> Aries - UnderFell Gaster  
> Keet - UnderSwap Gaster  
> Murphy - FellSwap Gaster  
> Razor - SwapFell Gaster  
> Gemini - Outertale Gaster  
> Scorpio - Outer Fell Gaster  
> Moon Unit - Outer Swap Gaster
> 
> Frisk - Undertale Frisk  
> Gorse - UnderFell Frisk
> 
> Any character that seems to be referred to by physical, personal, or clothing characteristics, that's due to the fact they have no set nickname yet. :) So yes, some of the confusion is deliberate - these are a _lot_ of people being thrown at the reader in a very short time frame.


	8. Moss Cannot Be Equipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallways, card games, and unnerving realizations. Also, remembering that techno polka remixes exist. Oh yeah, and only somewhat expected Snas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Mentions of past trauma, vague innuendos, and Cards Against Humanity for a brief while in this chapter.

One of the things you’d always liked about Cards Against Humanity was the lack of need to shuffle the deck - just always draw out the starting chunk from the same end of the box, put the expended cards in the other end, keep the two colors separate, and no two games were ever the same. 

So dealing everybody a hand had been easy. Explaining the rules had been easy. Picking the point goal had been easy.

_Actually playing the game however . ._

 

“‘The Care Bear Stare’ . . . what?”

“What are Pylons?”

“I absolutely refuse to read this one out loud-”  
“Ooh, lemme see- ew.”

“A Pool of Orphan Tears. What. The. Hell.”

“Is Dick Cheney a place, a person, or some sort of exotic statuary?”

 

Cards Against Humanity proved to be an interestingly _horrible_ sort of education experience, which eventually stretched out over three hours and moved into the library so the skeletons with you could argue over whose turn it was to look something up online. After the third argument, you pointed out that urban dictionary was editable by the public and thus only a semi-reliable source on anything other than slang.

Apparently this concept was an affront to all of them.

The game itself had ground to a halt, and they were now just picking up cards at random to study this or that thing. Wikipedia, Youtube, and Wolfram Alpha were getting hard use today. Usually when one or another wanted more detail on a card topic than your brief explanations could provide.

By the end of the first hour, you were all but numb to the horror, reciting your sometimes limited knowledge in a flat monotone. By the end of the third, you simply dropped off the stack of cards next to the computer, added a stack of Sex Ed books (you were, and still are, incredibly thankful for Oh Joy Sex Toy and it’s graphic novel compilations) and notified them you needed to go make lunch.

As soon as you were in the bit of hallway leading from the main stairs to the kitchen, Razor pounced. Before you could blink, your back was to the wall, head almost touching one of the photo frames there. He leaned down over you, hands lightly curled around your shoulders as he studied your face very intently. Something about the grip felt odd but that really wasn’t on your mind at all at the moment.

“Jus’ what the hell is it about you . . .”

“What the hell, Razor?”  
You stared up at him owlishly. He was staring straight into your eyes as he slowly lowered his face towards you, much to your confusion.

Honestly, you were starting to get uneasy about the situation . . . 

Your gaze wandered up a bit as one of the cracks that extended down past his eye ridge catches your gaze, and you end up staring up into the mix of scars and . . maybe tattoos? . . . on his forehead. There was something deliberate and purposeful about some of the marks, despite the cracks and chips that nearly obliterated them. At the very least the ones over his left cheekbone and over - your breath caught as you studied the rest of his skull.

Razor paused, frowning slightly as he realized you’d become distracted by . . something about his face. His frown turned a bit sour - he really hadn’t thought you’d be the type to be put off by scars. How disappointing.

You didn’t notice the change in his expression, too caught up by the slowly-dawning realization curling through your mind as you stared. The dense cluster of cracks going from his right eye socket and up over his skull had helped conceal it, but the ones on his forehead (which seemed to be covering a much larger tattoo) - those radiated out from a central impact point.

Without even being aware of it, you reach up to gently touch the center of the impact cracks - scars - only now noticing how close his skull was to yours. Judging by the what you could read of his expression, you’d just completely short-circuited whatever he’d been intending to do. And he seemed . . angry? Disappointed in you somehow? Wary. Either way something in his expression _hurt and drove you to do something,_ your touch light as your hand followed that crack to the side of his forehead.

You had enough on your hands dealing with the horrible realization that either he, or someone else, had tried to cave his _head_ in against a wall or a rock or an anvil for all you knew. And that knowledge hurt to realize, squeezing your heart tight for a few seconds. Very gently you traced the largest of the web of cracks back to his right temple, before letting your hand drop. 

Lunging down a bit, you wrapped your arms around him in a fierce hug. He froze in place at the action, and you had to guess that was rational. Practically strangers, after all. So you let go almost as quickly, and ducked out under his arm. With a faint smile, you patted his shoulder reassuringly, before turning and bustling off into the kitchen.

Lunch still needed to be made . . and a swift retreat seemed necessary, with the tight knot of worry, sympathy, and anxious unease balled up in your gut.

In the hall, Razor just stared after you, the spots on his skull you’d touched still tingling and so aware of how soft and warm the contact had been. That pulse of sympathy and concern and _worry for him_ that had echoed across his soul through the physical contact still lingered, countering the lazy, careless ~~cruel, pointlessly, needlessly cruel~~ impulse he’d been indulging.

After a moment, he scrubbed a hand over his face, gaze narrowing as he contemplated what had just happened. ~~How you had offered comfort and sympathy rather than fear or lust~~. The things he’d broken his skull to muddy only gave a few hints, lurking below the morass of incoherent might-be. Shifting his gaze, he noticed the door under the stairs. After a moment he followed another impulse.

In the kitchen, you jumped slightly as the classic rock you’d been playing switched over to . . techno polka remixes? After a moment, you just rolled your eyes and continued assembling sandwiches, ignoring the skeleton in the room watching you with an eagle eye. At least until he started interrogating you about what the ‘correct’ combinations of ingredients were.

It seemed to baffle him that there could be variations on the same basic sandwich.

Overall it made for a good distraction from . . whatever the hell that was with Razor in the hall. It was still lurking in the back of your mind as you carried out two of the platters of sandwiches to the dining room - just in time for a ‘knock knock’ from the front door. With a huff, you rolled your eyes and set down the platters before heading for the door.

Sans just gives you a shit-eating grin from the other side of the glass and knocks twice again. You’re just . . too tired for this. Or for the fact that Razor is slowly lowering a banana on a string from the uppermost part of the main staircase for reasons that entirely escape you.

Instead of giving Sans the ‘who’s there’ he’s clearly waiting for, you just open the door. “We don’t need aluminum siding.”

 

He just stares at you for a few seconds, clearly caught off guard. Which was pretty satisfying, you didn’t catch him off guard very often.  
“ . . wha?”

“Look up ‘Jaboody Dubs’ on youtube. That should explain it.” You grin, before stepping back to let him in. He gives you a wary, amused glance as he steps on in, hands shoved back in his hoodie pockets. “An’ i should just trust ya on that.”

“C’mon, you only fell for the cat pictures twice. Ah . . can we talk in the library? Please.”

Another amused, quirked eye ridge before Sans saunters to the library door - and stops stock still, staring at the skeletons inside. You paused behind him to take in the scene. Dings, Scorpio, and Moon Unit arguing over something on the screen (looks like they’re watching a video about something now), Murphy in the back of the room blushing intensely as reads a large softcover book with a pink and white cover you definitely recognize (you’d double-stocked the library with that series after your unpleasant discovery of how utterly lacking sex ed was in your home country **still** ), Razor ‘napping’ on the couch, and . . huh. Gemini was floating near the ceiling reading a different book, possibly an encyclopedia or that manual on C++.

As far as you knew Aries was still consulting with his family (and plus one), so you just had one question right now. “Where’s Keet?”

At the sound of your voice, Murphy squeaks and tries to fumble the book back onto the shelf, blushing all over his skull before abruptly going completely pale. Or at least you assume he turns pale, the glance you got before he pulled up the hood on his robe looked like he was. Gemini glanced down from his spot near the ceiling, smiling softly at you and Sans. “He decided to look at the yards. . . is something amiss?”

You are not used to hearing a voice that genuinely sends happy shivers down your spine the way Gemini’s does. And damnit you’re too hungry to deal with being vaguely horny. Shoving the response aside/down, you give him a brief smile. “Nah, lunch is on the table - mind clearing out y’all? I need to talk to Sans.”

Dings actually tries to give his son a smile as he rises to leave - it’s definitely progress! It’s even better progress that Sans doesn’t glare or worse, as far as you can tell from Dings reaction to . . well, whatever is on Sans face. It’s enough that Dings only looks a little sad before his expression goes politely neutral, nodding to the both of you as he heads out the door.

“HORF!”

The yelp barely snags your attention in time to see the blur that is Murphy finish running over Razor on the sofa and past you through the door. Razor? He’s curled up around his lower ribs, groaning a bit as he swears in a rather breathless kind of way. Considering the amount of repetition, cussing lessons may be necessary at some point.

That’s not the point right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I'm late posting this! I'm actually starting to run out of chapter buffer for this story, so I need to sit my heiney down and focus! Hope this chapter was entertaining!


	9. Introvert/Extrovert Is A Limited Binary That Should Be A Spectrum At The Least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Snas have serious words. Also, Razor . . . what the heck is up with you?

There’s other sounds of confusion in the room (and amusement, Scorpio is muffling laughter behind a hand ~~oh dear lord she’s wearing black lace gloves and they look fantastic on her~~ ) as she drifts for the doorway. Gemini is hovering over Razor, a look of mild concern on his skull. “Razor? Will you be alright?”

Gemini’s expression soured a little at the swearing that followed - understandable, a lot of it was directed at him, rather than at the situation in general. As he drifted back away from Razor, Moon Unit casually drifted up, grabbed Razor’s boots and dragged him out of the room. Razor was swearing and struggling the entire way. Followed by a bemused-looking Gemini.

You stuck your head out of the doorway as you were pulling the doors shut to check on them. Looked like Razor was fine, if annoyed and trying to kick Moon Unit without standing up properly - he was doing pretty good on managing to stand on his hands, although you hadn’t wanted to know yet he wore plaid boxers. Blushing a bit, you shut the doors the last few inches.

You had to take a moment to lean lightly against the door, letting the blush fade as you rubbed a hand over your face. Straightening, you started towards Sans, who . . had a very odd, sorta sad expression for a split second. And then there was just confusion.

“ . . what the _hell_?”

 

“That’s about my thought too, Sans.”

“ . . right. . . so, what’s this about?”

“I can’t take any more ‘guests’ here. I can’t take the three you dropped off last night.”  
You roll your eyes as Sans’s expression shuts down into something warier. With an annoyed grunt, you grab a pillow off the couch and chuck it at him. It bounces off his face, but at least seems to jolt him out of his suspicion-first mode.  
“Stop that. Sans. Seriously. Just . . just . . _Ugh_. It’s **not** the fact they’re more skeletons. It’s not they’re monsters. It’s that it’s _more **people!** I am **over my limit** already_ . . . hell, if you want to pull my soul out to see what’s up that’s fine! I may know how to handle this many people, doesn’t mean I can handle it for any long span of time!”

Throwing up your arms, you start pacing back and forth across the library, avoiding the computer chair and the beanbags plopped down randomly. The library was always bigger vertically than horizontally, after all. Sun is shining through the huge window that takes up most of one of the outside walls, the stained glass upper section casting colors upon the carpet. 

Sans watched you pace for a few moments before speaking. “ . . so just what are you saying?”

“Your dad is now one of _eight_ , Sans. They’re . . they’re all connected to me, I’ve . . “ Your voice trails off as you stop in the middle of the room, folding your arms as you look back at him. He’s your friend - a good one, despite only having known him a year. And you gave up being other than yourself decades ago. “I’ve been feeling their pain. Close to literally - when Murphy was trapped in a pretzel configuration, it **hurt** . . and that was just the first thing . . ”

Sans’ gaze flicked down to where one of your hands rested against your sternum. ~~He didn’t let himself think about how it looked, you weren’t interested.~~ Rising back to your gaze, he noted the stress lines around your eyes, the paleness of your face. That quietly pinched air to your expression he’d seen time and time again.

The ‘I hurt and I have no reserves left’ one.

It always made him feel like he’d found a kicked puppy hiding in a corner. Taking in a deep breath, he rubbed a hand over his skull, not really noticing the rasp of bone-against-bone he’d heard all his life (he’d been incredibly amused to learn humans could make fart noises just by sticking their hands in their armpits the right way). Turning to stare out at the building in a slow spin, he . . . had an idea.

A crazy idea.

But frankly, it seemed better than repeatedly dropping more stress on your lap than you can handle right now - Paps would be so upset if anything happened to one of his first human friends. Even if it meant more stress for both him and Paps . . but then, who else would know him and his bro better? Taking a deep breath, Sans gave you a lopsided, sincere smile. “ . . right. i guess i’m going to need your advice on setting up a place like this.”

“What?”

“a . . “ He gestures widely, up towards the attic and down towards the basement, sort of towards the whole house. “ . . multi-home. I just know how to live with my bro, but you’ve got people that come and go all the time.”

“we finally leave all the way, the barrier came back, and now we have more monsters coming out. Ones that are . . hurtin’ pretty bad on the inside. bad enough to be lashin’ out like they expect everythin’ to hurt. that whole ‘kill or be killed’ thing was law, ‘parently. and what’s gonna happen when all of them leave? that there’s now seven more versions of dings . . . i don’t think it’s done yet. an’ paps wants to have . . well, our ‘cousins’ live with us.”

“That means taking in Gorse too, or at least resolving yourself to them visiting. A lot.”

“ . . . “

“I’m just guessing at that, bonehead. But it’s pretty clear she and Goldtooth are very close. I mean almost scary levels of close.”

“ . . dayumn, and you’d noticed?”

“Hey, it’s easier to spot when it’s not directed at me after all. That’s not an invite to try flirting again, by the way.” You give Sans a faint smile to take the sting out, and it seems to work - he just does an ‘aw shucks’ sort of fingersnap. That had been an awkward spot in your relationship with Sans. It also took a great deal of sincere conversation, and explanation on what ‘demisexual’, ‘demiromantic’, ‘aromantic’, and ‘asexual’ meant in terms of human sexuality.

You’d been bizarrely pleased that the ‘default’ for Monsters was more or less pansexuality. It had been . . . reassuring. Just remembering that was incredibly soothing sometimes. Especially in the wake of yet another uncomprehending stare at the idea that you weren’t looking for romance at your age from . . well anybody.

Oh hell, you were going to have to have that conversation again, this time with your new housemates . . possibly several times over.

Rocking back on his heels, unaware of where your mind has wandered, the short skeleton goes back to staring at you. “i mean it on the advice. you know this neighborhood - this town - better than i do still.”

“Pff, you’re out and about in it more than I am! . . . seriously tho, we can spelunk the ‘for sale’ boards online after lunch? I need food. Oh, can you take loud, short, ‘n sweater’d with you?” You can’t help the pleading note in your voice. Sans gives you a flat look.  
“C’mon, other than Gorse they haven’t picked nicknames or accepted my suggestions!”

Sans snorts before shrugging and tucking his hands back in his pockets. “yeah, i can take ‘em back with me. paps power cleaned the guest room last night and set up the daybed in my room.”

“Right, let’s go stuff our faces and then wrestle the internet!”

Posing dramatically, you thoroughly enjoy his muffled snort of amusement before heading towards the door. And come up short, as his hand lands briefly on your sleeve - just long enough to get you to stop. “Seriously, you holding up otherwise? You got that look again.”

You could snark. You could sass right back. But . . you’d rather be honest. You just don’t have the energy to deflect right now. “ . . don’t know. Food’ll help, and not having extras in the house will be better. It’s not even been twenty-four hours and I’m already just . . “

A helpless shrug is all you’ve got to give, before absently letting down your hair to re-twist it into a bun again. Hair clips for the win. “I really hope they come to visit Aries tho - I don’t know him well enough to say for sure, but he . . . call it a hunch, but I’m certain they’re important to him, at least.”

Sans opens his mouth to speak- and says nothing when an enraged shriek comes through the closed door. You’re at and shoving open the doors open before you can even think ‘what the hell was that’, faded reflexes from those years as a security guard spurring you on past the baffled skeletons standing/posed mid-wrestling/punching in the main hall. Honestly you don’t really notice that Razor is doing his damned best to punch Moon Unit - or was a split second ago - with Keet and Murphy trying to pry them apart/run interference.

You weren’t running. Running killed your ankles and your lungs had never entirely recovered from the illnesses of your childhood. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be damned fast when you needed to. Bustling past the dining room, you burst in on the kitchen, taking in the scene in with a glance.

The basement door was open, and the doorway stuffed full of blasters of all sorts of sizes and horns. One blaster was hovering in the kitchen and looking entirely ashamed of itself, whimpering softly as a scrap of fabric dangled from where it was snagged on an oversized tooth. The poor thing had rather scraggly horns compared to the others, and a large underbite. Scorpio was standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking absolutely furious (and humiliated) as she clutched the scraps of her top up around her ribcage. Aries stepping into the room with a large towel from the laundry room, scowling up at the blaster as he offered the towel in Scorpio’s direction.

You couldn’t help the words that popped out of your mouth, staring at the blaster. “Bad blaster!”  
They whined at you, giving you puppy eyes as they dipped closer to the floor. You waggled a finger at them, frowning before partially turning towards the basement door. “Basement!”

 

“Whiiiiine . . “

“Basement! With everybody else!” That got a whole chorus of protesting whines and pouts from the blasters in the door. This was going to be a headache to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's this week's chapter!
> 
> . . 
> 
> Really late in the day. I'm sorry folks! I've had the writing not come as easily the last few weeks, and my buffer of chapters has severely dwindled. But on the other hand posting this has reminded me of details that had slipped my mind, and now I have new vigor to continue!
> 
> Dings - Undertale  
> Aries - Underfell  
> Scorpio - OuterFell  
> Gemini - Outertale  
> Keet - UnderSwap  
> Murphy - FellSwap  
> Razor - SwapFell  
>  Moon Unit - OuterSwap
> 
>  
> 
> Gorse - Underfell Frisk  
> Neither Fell Sans or Paps have accepted/picked nicknames yet, so they're only casually referred to by physical traits.


	10. Lunch.EXE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the hell does it take to get these Gasters to sit down and eat already when they're caught up in intense nerding?

You absently noticed Scorpio wrapping herself in the towel as you continued to scold the blasters back into the basement. They could sit there for another ten minutes, _at the very least._ Finally shutting the door on the collective of floating skulls . . monsters . . . blasters. 

Easier to just think of them as blasters, unique from both monsters and humans.

There were soft scratching and thunking noises from the basement door, which shuddered slightly and frequently with the press of blasters from behind it. Suspicions were rising that some might be headbutting the door. You also had a sinking feeling soon the ‘borf’-ing would start up as they complained. 

_**“Reeeeeaaaaaahhhh!”** _

Or that. Whatever _that_ was. It kinda reminded you of a siamese yowl . . just not actually that and about ten times creepier. Like you had a flock of miniature godzillas in the basement. Which were definitely upset about the whole ‘being in the basement’ thing. Ignoring the shivers down your spine, you huffed and turned to head back into the kitchen . . . or not.

The doorways were full of Gasters. All of which had expression you _just could not read_. Other than the embarrassed anger that was part of Scorpio’s expression. The rest was making you somewhat uneasy. 

“ . . . what?” You blinked at them innocently. “They’ve been down there since last night, they can wait ten minutes for all of you to get all of your clothes and shoes back on and for someone to find Scorpio a shirt that might fit.” 

And then the next half hour was a bundle of noise and confusion. Plus lots of . . angry? Worried? Stressed? . . . indignant arguing as those tall nerds bustled around you. In wingdings. For some reason none of them wanted to be more than ten feet away from you, despite Dings teleporting up to his room to bring Scorpio one of his shirts. All of them refused explain why, or were interrupted when they started to - you were still thankful to Keet and Gemini for trying to. 

She had regarded the turtleneck with much distaste, but was wearing it anyways. In your opinion it rather worked, even it was less dramatic than her top had been. It was a more strict look, but . . it looked **good**. Powerful in a different way, especially since she left the cape somewhere. 

Thankfully lunch was already done and waiting on the dining room table, although considering the minimum-two-Gaster-deep crowd you had, you ended up just filling a plate with sandwiches and sitting at the seat nearest the platters. Sans had shrugged and sat down on the far end of the table, soon joined by Gorse and their skeletal shadow. At this distance the subtleties in their interactions were less clear, but you were pretty sure Gorse was - if not now soon would be - dating him (mr. gold tooth, not Sans). Hopefully that would be enough for Sans to start coming around to not seeing Gorse as a threat. 

Surrounded in a hubbub of noise, ,you started munching . . and then realized the nerds around you were pulling a Dings - too caught up to remember food despite it being right there. With a grumpy noise you stood and hauled the stack of paper plates your way, taking a thick stack of them before you started plopping sandwiches down on each one and none-too-gently sneaking them into a random holed hand. 

Sans glanced up from his end of the table, and snickered at the sight. Making a small gesture towards the skeleton (and human) with him, he jerked his chin to point down at the crowded far end. “oh, you gotta watch this crim’ - this is gonna be great.” 

“ . . crim’?” 

“yeh, short for crimson.” 

“fuck yah, indie." 

“indie?” 

“Short fer indigo.” 

“heh, like it.” 

The red-and-black Sans (newly dubbed ‘Crim’) stared at him as if he’d grown a second head before looking down the table. It was just the landlady and the flock of his uncle’s alternates, wasn’t it? Except you were looking swiftly more and more irritated as you tried to get them to accept food. 

Sans was leaning his elbows on the table, jaw on his hands as he watched your temper build. His complete relaxation was the only reason the Crim didn’t do more than flex a few fingers nervously, aborting the impulse to get the dangerous human away from his only newly-re-found Uncle. A wide, disbelieving grin spread on his face after a few moments as the landlady threw back her head and _yodeled. **Loudly.**_

Only Sans and Dings knew the lovely, eerie, sound was imitated straight out of a horror game. 

“WHAT THE **FUCK**.”  
Crim’s brother broke the following silence as he just stared across the the table, hand still on his notebook and pen in grip. His fingers tightened on the pen (probably better than on the sandwich in his other hand), before he gave a slight shake of his head and scowled. “NEVERMIND. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW.” 

That was it for Sans and Crim.  
Both of the short skeletons started cracking up, earning a disgusted look from Crim’s brother and a fondly amused one from Gorse. You, however, were ignoring all of them in favor of shoving a plate with two sandwiches in front of Dings’ face. He glared at you. 

You glared right back. _You were not putting up with him missing a meal again._ Or any of them for that matter! “Eat, damnit! I don’t want to find out what happens if one of you misses a meal when there’s so many relying on just me.” 

A pause, which you took to self-examine, focusing on that not-sensation you’d come to know as how your soul was doing. Frankly, it was better than when it was just Dings, but right now it was also kinda raw and draining as well. With a crabby grunt, you started pointing at sandwiches and giving a rundown on what was in them, how light/heavy the flavor would be and spice level. 

You could hear Loud-And-Hot-Topic Papyrus scritching away at whatever he was writing as your crowd of nerds finally started taking sandwiches. It was kind of amusing to note who took what - like how Keet grabbed the grilled cheese with tomato and the tofurkey sandwich, Scorpio grabbed two reubens and a steak and arugula, and Dings grabbed his usual reuben and a tofurkey. 

Moon Unit had decided to sit on the ceiling as he nibbled away at his steak sandwich. He was fairly close to the platter though, so you guessed he’d grab a second one if he was still hungry after the first. Gemini had gone for just the tofurkey sandwiches before sitting down, but Murphy had grabbed . . well, half of each type of sandwich, and sitting down as close to the platter as he could. Aries had . . . a grilled cheese and a steak and arugula? He’d also chosen to sit down next to Crim, even if he was ignoring Crim’s conversation with Sans. 

After picking at the sandwiches for a bit, eventually Razor just sat down next to you, pinching his nasal bridge with a decidedly grumpy expression. It’s not until your second glance that you realize why something seems vaguely off - Razor has six fingers on his hand. Looks fully functional, too, judging by the ease it matches the pinky it’s next to. A moment, a blink, and you look down at his other hand where it’s resting on top of a sandwich. 

Six there too. Huh. 

**“What.”** Razor’s cranky demand jolts you straight out of your preoccupation, and you blink mutely at him for a few seconds. And say the first things that come to mind. “That’s neat, the extra finger. You look like you’ve got a headache, would tylenol do anything to help? Or do I need to go raid Dings’ first aid kit?” 

“Hey!”  
You ignore Ding’s outburst, which only makes Razor wince. After a moment, he nods slightly, covering his eye sockets with his hand. You . . can’t really see his eyesocket very well through the hole - it’s small, compared the others. And has a rough, ragged edge that makes you feel . . . . the possible causes are going to be haunting your nightmares tonight. 

Right, clear pain, cue enough. With a soft huff you rise to your feet, gesturing to the others to sit down idly as you head for the kitchen. The first aid kit is easy to find, having gotten it out just last night. Though you could have sworn there were four types of painkiller, not three . . ? 

“Ah, so that’s where it is!”  
Keet’s voice is soft and pleased, but still makes you not-quite shriek, fumbling the bottle in your hands right out of your grip. You have a split second to panic before he catches the bottle just a few inches above the ground. Panting slightly, you stare at him wide-eyed for a few seconds, trying to gather your scrambled thoughts. 

_404 Error: Mind not found._

_Reboot Yes/No?  
Cucumber _

The light touch of fingers on your shoulder jars you out of your daze, and you frown slightly up at Keet, who has what may be an apologetic expression. Despite the natural exaggeration skeleton monster features were prone to, after a few years of knowing Sans you were not going to take what you saw as clear of your own bias. The dude emoted in some odd ways compared to the average human. 

Kinda on par with someone with . . . no, that wasn’t your business. He already had people he talked to - you’d never asked who, hoping the fact you were trusting him would help be incentive enough - and a younger brother who was damned good at weaseling into taking care of his mopey ass. 

None of that had anything to do with right now. You blinked, and re-focused on Keet just as he finished saying something. You gave him a faint half-smile, apologetic but still rattled as you said, “Sorry, I missed all of that. What did you say?” 

His smile is . . rather sweetly patient as well as apologetic as well. “Miss? I’m quite sorry to startle you, I wasn’t trying to.” Bringing a hand up to his skull he rubs the side of his head sheepishly as he continues. “I just wanted to make sure where the first aid kits were, just in case. Some of the others can be a bit reckless.”  
Oh, now that was a smile sweeter than sugar, and so openly genuine. It reminded you of another very-tall skeleton far too much. But Keet’s features were softer, a little more chubby and round somehow? Despite the fact that he was so very tall and . . huh. At closer look what you had taken for a scattering of cracks loosely in the shape of a scar like Dings, just flipped from the right to the left . . . Keet had engravings. 

Soft, curling swirls and feather-like sprays of curl after curl, almost as if evoking music. It was beautiful and only faintly visible up close due to the stark black showing through the deepest points. But the edges of those points seemed odd, as if something inside his skull had tried pushing outwards, chipping away a bit. 

And he’s been so patient, waiting with that fading smile for your response as you study hum. You only just start to open your mouth to apologize before he interrupts. “I know, it’s a marriage mark - but I’ve never been married. I . . I-i . . ” 

_His eyelights briefly flicker in static._

He blinks, and his eyelights are back to normal. Clearing his throat, he looks aside at the first aid kit in confusion for a moment before looking back to you. “Sorry, what was I saying?” 

“Ah, nothing to worry about. Well, this is the cupboard where Dings’ first aid kit lives - mine is in the lower cabinet over there.” You point, trying to gloss over the eerie just-past moment. There was just too much to process right now. Especially not with an encroaching headache.  
“Coffee mugs here . . let’s get this mixed up for Razor, right?” 

“Ah, yes Miss!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Trying to keep things going - and up next . . . _shopping_. For skeletons ranging from six to eight feet tall. And can't be more than a block away from you. 
> 
> . . . Muahahaha.


	11. Spiders Do Kidnapping?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transit is a bit hard when you can't separate far from the main group. Some weirdness, some truth, and definitely the start of some shopping!

That moment in the kitchen was still vaguely on your mind nearly an hour later with no real resolution or decision being made about it, just idle speculation as the second bus you’d caught trundled and wheezed through town. With the latest advances in magically-enhanced green engines and fuels, the local bus system was far better than it had been, and it had been fairly impressive to begin with. It was also the best solution you’d been able to settle on with them that didn’t involve trying to keep three or more cars close enough so that you wouldn’t end up puking or passing out from the strain.

So instead there were skeletons taking over the back of this bus, with you more or less in the middle of the back seat. Aries, Crim, Gorse, and the semi-newly-nicknamed Edge - who was being chattered at by Papyrus (the resemblance was eerie, despite Edge’s overall prickly/edgy/extra-pointy appearance) - formed a buffer between the group and the rest of the bus’s occupants. Sans was next to his brother, talking lazily with Crim. The next few seats had Scorpio and Moon Unit - you had no idea where they got the magazine or what it was of. Next was Murphy and Keet, who seemed to be pointing out bits of the landscape to each other out of sheer curiosity.

Razor was seated directly across from the rear exit door, and was glaring it at like it had offended his mother or something. You . . had no idea what was up with that. He’d done that on the last bus too.

Dings had immediately staked out the seat right next to you, and Gemini had - much to your continued surprise - settled in on your other side. Their conversation flittered over your head, sometimes in wingdings, often not . . . but very densely scientific. Having them there was . . rather soothing . . . 

Dings looked down as something softly heavy came to rest against his arm, and found she had nodded off, soothed by the hum and bump of the ride. Unable to help the flush across his cheekbones, he carefully shifts his arm to hold her stable. 

“She’s really something, isn’t she?”  
Dings snapped his gaze up to glare warningly at Gemini, just daring him to comment on the situation. The taller skeleton simply smiled back, his gaze dropping back to the human between them. “Somehow, she manages to get all of us moving, fed, and now . . .”

She started snoring.

Dings couldn’t help the stark relief that flooded through him at that good sign, his expression softening slightly as he looked down at her grey and white streaked hair (apparently early grey ran in her family, and all of her siblings had also started showing grey hair at about twelve or earlier). The one time she’d been sick, her snoring had disappeared entirely in exchange for thin, shallow breaths that barely seemed enough.

That . . had been a sleepless set of nights.

“Why did you pick your eldest to be your heir as Judge?”  
Gemini’s words were a cold shock. His tone itself was far from cold - just gently, almost neutrally curious. He even seemed a bit confused by Dings’ blank stare.  
“How did you know.”

Gemini lifted his hand to lightly tap alongside his left eye socket, which had a thin, but ornate line design that almost resembled a stylized star descending onto his cheekbone. At a glance and distance it seemed more like he’d been hit in the face with a cogwheel, but the design was too . . deliberate. It was also completed by the shape his eyelight took as a Check washed over Dings. That wasn't concerning - he knew how much garbled nonsense his stats still were, despite her presence.

A yellow four-point star. Just like the temporal anomalies that Sans had spoken of being all over the Underground before the barrier went down. That it was framed by a purple circle was likely a personal influence from the natural composition of Gemini’s magic. The eye light reverted back to standard as Gemini blinked.

Dings weighed just what to say - how much information to give - as he watched Gemini with slightly narrowed eye sockets. He didn’t really _know_ this skeleton yet. But Gemini clearly was, or even currently is, the Judge to his own Royal.

Distance from said Royal did not change the weight of that duty.

Taking a deep breath, Dings decided to go with at least _part_ of the truth. No need to go into all the details, and many were not his to share. “I didn’t. While the position was . . inherited from my parent, I did not designate my son as my heir - at the time I was parted from my sons, neither was old enough. While I could monitor them to a small degree, I could not influence their existence in the slightest.”

“Ah. I see.” Gemini made a slight gesture, one Dings remembered. An old one meant to indicate ‘fate’s choice’ or ‘Seer’s blindness’. Something that is entirely out of one’s hands, for good or for ill. Giving the other a grim nod in agreement, Dings turned his gaze back down the length of the bus.

Briefly meeting Sans’ eye, before his eldest pointedly turned his attention back to his younger brother and the skeletons his brother was enthusiastically describing his new van to. Swallowing down the sting of the snub, Dings yanked his thoughts to what he could hear of Papyrus’s enthusiasm, though the last Dings had known, it was going to be a new convertible . . . Abruptly his attention was yanked away as Razor stood, stepping sharply over to grab ~~what the hell was up with his hands~~ the railing by the door. Staring at the glass as if it had insulted his morals, or something equally heinous.

With equally offended indignation radiating off of him, the robed skeleton stalked off the bus as soon as the doors opened. Sans started rising to his feet, nudging his brother in the ribs. “hey, it’s our stop.”

The Busperson was cackling with laughter by the time the entire group shuffled off the bus. It was a very ruffled and grumpy group that mobbed up the street to push through the doors of the boutique. With you trailing like a sleepy duckling, hand firmly in Dings’ grasp. Drowsily you waved to where Felix was sitting at the small cafe counter inside through the main front window as Dings tugged you along.

The store was a hybrid of sorts - mostly a boutique that specializes in custom clothing and tailoring existing pieces to fit the customer. But in a strike of brilliance, Muffet had designated a fourth of the storefront to a small cafe that sold coffee and alternate diet pastries - vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free, and traditional spider pastries. Not everything was all of those, but anybody could walk in and reasonably find four or three options that would work for their diet. 

All carefully made by three different part-time employees in their own homes to avoid cross-contamination at this point. It had started with offering sugar-free and spider pastries, and grown with each new specialized diet Muffet had learned about. 

Actually, the thought of coffee was very appealing . . . Without the slightest hesitation, you tugged your hand free to go procure the delicious bean brew of alertness. There really wasn’t much chance of anybody getting in trouble here, unless they wanted a hefty repair bill. Many of Muffet’s regulars would move quickly to protect the store.

As soon as the word got out, Muffet’s specialization _had really paid off._

Which lead to a certain greedy glee in the spider monster’s eyes as she approached the group, hands posed in airy grace to be welcoming. “Welcome back to my boutique, Doctor Gaster! My, such a large group you bring with you - ahfufufufu, all hopefully with just the best words about how wonderful my store is?”

Dings cleared his throat, moving towards the front of the group as he folded his hands firmly behind himself. “ . . . we are all in need of new clothing. Am I correct in assuming you still accept G in exchange as well as or instead of human currency?”

“Of course dearie!” Muffet made an airy little gesture with two of her hands, her eyes already quickly scanning the group.Her smile widened, her lowest hands coming to rest on her hips. “And of course I also offer tailoring of conventional mass-produced clothing for a small fee, if you choose that route.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. Barring myself, most of those with us need an entire wardrobe.”

Muffet’s upper left eye gained an extra-sharp glint as her smile widened. “Will you be paying for all of them, Doctor Gaster?”

“No, no, they should have their own G- . . wait, where did . .” Dings finished the half-turn he had been making as he discovered the crowd that had been behind him had wandered off. Muffet laughed, stepping up to clasp Dings’ arm with one of her own. “Then why don’t we start with you, doctor dear?”

You looked up at Muffet’s merry cackle just in time to see her dragging Dings off towards the back of the store where the fitting rooms were. That might have been dismay on his face . . . ? You were simply too tired to care, and frankly, this hot coffee and spider doughnut were satisfying and warm. Warmth that spread throughout you as soon as you swallowed, easing the ache in your chest.

You were still tired . . . but it was helping.

Almost weirdly, so was getting to lean on Moon Unit and Murphy, the two having wandered over to you and ordering coffee for themselves (well, more Moon Unit bought coffee and a few goodies for both himself and Murphy ~~which startled the hell out of Murphy~~ ). As your gaze wandered the store, you noted Aries and his family were staying close, even though Crim and Gorse were just cuddling on one of the loveseats in the store.

They were pretty adorable, even if Sans looked . . really uncomfortable being nearby. Something about his body language wasn’t quite gelling - something in the extra slouch, the fidget with one of his hood drawstrings. But it wasn’t your business.

Re-working the lines and boundaries of your friendship after the failed attempts at dating had sucked, but overall you and he were on firmer footing with each other. The past was knocked from your mind as Crim leaned back over the loveseat arm to clearly heckle Sans, among other questions. Gorse just looked amused.

As you let your gaze wander further around the store, you had a mild, happy little jolt at realizing all over again that all of these skeletons ~~barring Sans and Crim~~ were _damned tall_. A lovely thing indeed, it made them fairly easy to spot over and around the clothing displays. 

Aries was scowling down at a rack of leather jackets besides his tall edgy-hot-topic-Papyrus relative, proving the other skeleton was . . actually taller than him. But those shoulders were nearly identical, as was the stance they had. You were absolutely convinced they were related, and probably should just ask Aries later today.

Your gaze was wandering for the next skull when Keet popped out between two mannequins and headed your way, smiling as he nodded to Murphy and Moon Unit. Giving him an absent smile, you took a bite of the spider donut in your hand, savoring the warm rush from the treat. With your gaze on your food you entirely missed the startled exchange of glances between the three skeletons at the counter-rush swirling through their souls. ~~Startled and then _guilty_ expressions.~~

Keet gently touched your shoulder to get your attention, a soft smile on his face. “Miss? I meant to ask - is there any sort of rule regarding clothing you’d like us to follow?”

You blinked in surprise. “Um . . don’t go through the communal areas naked? I mean, I sincerely don’t care what you wear in your rooms, as long as you’re not answering the front or back door starkers?”

Pursing your lips thoughtfully, you added. “I . . . would appreciate it if people didn’t go crazy on the eye-gouging neons. Muffet has some really _horrible_ clashing-ly neon fabric prints available for cheaper. Wearing a full outfit of those would be . . . hard on the eyes.”

Murphy snickered into his coffee cup next to you, and the sound just . . made you happy. It sounded so _relaxed and content_ in this moment. Smiling wider, you met Keet’s gaze directly and grinned. “I have a pair of pajama shorts in this gloriously bad neon hamburger print, so I’m not about to quibble if people want some neons.”

“Most righteous.” Moon Unit was grinning like a cat in the cream as you burst out laughing at the unexpected outdated slang.

“Right on dude!”

“Groovy.” Keet put in, not-quite breaking into giggles at the dismayed delight you and Moon Unit gave him.

_“Dude.”_

“Damn skippy!”

“ . . . gettin’ a little crunk there, home skillet?” 

Murphy blinked slowly at the three of you, before plaintively interjecting. “ . . . I didn’t understand any of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After longer than I expected to take, the next chapter! I'm coming to realize one of my big problems writing is consistent pacing - I've got a lot of details and plot threads in the story right now, all of which I find fun . . yet I want to rush on to later events! 
> 
> I'm pretty sure this chapter is clunkier than it needed to be, due to my urge to rush onwards.


	12. Spider Haz Warez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Multiple moments of insight! Mostly not for our Reader, but I hope y'all enjoy a bit of a look into these skeletons!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UT Sans - Indie  
> UT Papyrus - Pepper  
> UT Frisk - Frisk  
> UF Sans - Crim  
> UF Papyrus - Edge  
> UF Frisk - Gorse
> 
> UT Gaster - Dings  
> UF Gaster - Aries  
> US Gaster - Keet  
> SF Gaster - Razor  
> FS Gaster - Murphy  
> OT Gaster - Gemini  
> OF Gaster - Scorpio  
> OS Gaster - Moon Unit, MU

Aries stared almost blankly at the rack in front of him, assessing the jackets more on their protective qualities and durability than style. Basic leather, but many featured reinforced seams, and thick linings. Not quite leather armor. Some were close though.

Most of his attention was on other things - the faint sounds and conversations of the others in the store, the vibration of the traffic up and down the street. How his eyes ached faintly from the constant sunlight. _How that damned human was sitting so close to his nephew._

Sans - Crim - was a smart skeleton. A terrifyingly intelligent skeleton, Aries had watched the boy outsmart his classmates and the teachers an astounding number of times when he was still a little bastard in stripes - one of the few positive traits his bastard father had passed on. And yet . . here he was, on the edge of bonding with this human. It was horrifying, **infuriating** after all that had happened t- no. No.

_No._

_**No.** _

Outwardly, very little on Aries’ face changed as logic shoved it’s way through memory. Crim was not _her_ , despite how much he took after her in temperment. This wasn’t a repeat of the past. ~~_Gorse was not that bastard, may he rest in hell._~~

Aries throttled down the feeling of bile and dismay - his nephew was over a decade full-grown. The human was . . . kind. Kind in ways that made him feel bitter and sour, made the tight knot of emotion deep inside thicken and churn until he couldn’t tell what he exactly was feeling. 

At his side, ~~Papy-~~ Edge makes disgruntled sounds as he shrugs out of the jacket he was just trying on - the sleeves, the length, is too short for his proportions. With almost too-much force, he hangs the jacket back on the rack. “I BELIEVE WE WILL FIND CLOTHING MUCH MORE EASILY FOR YOU, UNCLE.” 

Ah, there was something unchanged - Edge had never managed to temper his volume. It was always either full volume, or near silence. Briefly the memory of a very young babybones scaring the ever-living hell out of his older brother (by walking up to him and licking his ice cream while the older was distracted by a book) danced in Aries’ mind’s eye. He quirked a slight smile as Edge started stalking off through the racks. 

“SURELY THERE MUST BE SOMETHING OF SUITABLE DURABILITY IN THE MIDST OF ALL THIS FRIVOLITY.” Edge’s voice must have carried throughout the entire store, considering an arm with a red glove abruptly stuck up over the racks and waved wildly. “OVER HERE, EDGE! THERE MAY BE SUITABLE CLOTHING FOR YOUR PARTICULAR TASTES OVER HERE!” 

The sunny (Aries found it almost disturbing, the air of pure innocence that radiated from this analogue to his nephew) Papyrus - Pepper, that’s right, he picked that nickname on the first bus - continued waving until Aries and Edge arrived at the rack of black leather. Pepper outright beamed, gesturing to the selection with his free hand. The other had a swath of black leather and lacing draped over it. 

It didn’t look to be sized any larger than the other rack, and both Aries and Edge frowned down at it. Pepper felt an almost giddy glee at seeing how similar their expressions were - part of him was eager to know if he shared any expressions or gestures with his dad after not knowing him for so long, so seeing this show of family resemblance was just _wonderful_. Beaming cheerfully at them both, he swept his hand along the clothing on the rack. “OUT HERE IS JUST MUFFET’S DEMONSTRATION DESIGNS - SHE MAKES EVERY PIECE CUSTOM TO FIT EXACTLY! IT’S A SPLENDID PLAN ALMOST AS MAGNIFICENT AS MYSELF, AND CLEARLY SHOWCASES HER EXCEPTIONAL TALENTS!” 

Pepper’s smile widened in delight at their clear intrigue at this after a few moments. He hoped his brother was having just as much fun getting to know Crim-Sans and Gorse-Frisk! And never realized the potential pun in Crim-Sans’ nickname! . . . at least until Pepper had a chance to use it! 

Back on the other side of the store closer to the doors, ~~Sans~~ Indie was . . uneasy. It didn’t show - he had long ago mastered the art of looking entirely relaxed while being ready to dodge ~~take a shortcut~~ in a split second. And that had been before the kid and their bouts with demonic possession. 

It was unease. Just unease with watching a ~~how the hell did he look so good with a gold tooth~~ ~~cracks~~ ~~scars~~ ~~not really a twin more like they were two of a ‘type’ of~~ ~~_oh holy shit did he have a collar on_~~ skeleton that practically looked like a mirror image of himself after being run through a ‘sharp’ ~~lazy punk hot topic trash with extra sass why was tha-~~ filter cuddle with what could be the kid a few years from now. Sure it helped Indie keep them distinct from the kid in that _this one_ , they were rather feminine cutely sweet and apparently much more comfortable in their own skin than the kid ~~why the hell was that confidence hot~~ and actually didn’t squint all the time. 

That really helped, and he took their distraction to study their eyes again - was it typical for a human to have one eye in a vivid red-brown and the other a bright pale blue ~~it matched _his magic_ why did he like that~~ that almost seemed to glow? There were a few other differences, mostly in signs of age and that they had an undercut bob. And pierced ears - three piercings in the lobe he could see. 

_Why the **hell** was he focusing on details so much right now?_

Giving himself a light shake, Indie hauled himself up out of the chair in order to sit sideways and look at them semi upside-down. Maybe that would help. ~~It really didn’t~~  
“ . . so, how’d it go anyways? The whole . . . goin’ through the Underground thing?” 

Crim and Gorse couldn’t help but glance at each other before replying.  
“Fine, if difficult.”  
“Fuckin’ horrible.” 

“ . . . right.” Indie stifled a sigh, and considered just how close he wanted to keep the facts. After a moment of looking into Crim’s wary eyelights, decided some give was necessary. That look was far too raw to trust without some proof on Indie’s part. It was rather satisfying to watch Crim and Gorse’s expressions change as he ran through the list of temporal anomaly locations, starting with the one in the far end of the Ruins and ending with the one outside the Throne Room. 

After a moment to let it sink in, Indie continued. “The kid said those were the focal points. S’why the finally found a way through, despite nobody really helping them.” 

“They were hunted too, a _child?”_ Gorse blurted out, their eyes going a little wide as color started draining from their face - memories of the Underground flickering through their mind. Of how many times they died in **agony**. And they’d been worried about this when they learned yesterday how young Frisk was - a few years younger than them! And had broken the barrier _ten years ago . . ._

It was nauseating to realize how young Frisk had been, and to face anything like _that_ \- 

Indie blinked in surprise, shaking his head slightly. “ . . not particularly? I mean, yeah some folks tried to start up a bullet conversation, but most had no idea they were human . . ? Those that knew what the kid was I could count off on one hand.” 

The silence that followed was ripe with awkward and unease, only lightly interrupted by the murmur of voices in the store and the sharp click-and-scrape of hangers being moved around. Indie sheepishly scratched the back of his head, and mentally worked through in his mind an analysis breakdown of the sequence of the sound. By the patterning, someone was flicking through the racks pretty thoroughly and very quickly. 

Weird. 

As Indie sorted through his thoughts and eventually ended up sitting much closer to Crim and Gorse than he was comfortable with in order to speak quietly about time anomalies, Scorpio was flicking rapidly through the racks of dresses, scowling slightly as she looked for . . . something. 

Something elegant, something durable, something _unique_. It was more than the disappointing lack of her preferred colors other than black, it was the excessive frills and the lack of elegant drapery in these! With an irritated snort, she snatched a lackluster option - the dress was black, the slit high-cut, and the neckline . . mm, not to her tastes, but perhaps the overall look would suffice. 

As she stalked towards the back rooms, the curtains over the door abruptly flared wide, rattling loudly as Dings lunged out of the room looking . . . rumpled. Without a backwards glance he quickly walked past Scorpio, out of sight among the racks by the time Muffet emerged from the room wearing a mock-pout and a decidedly _malicious_ glint in her eyes. 

Which vanished behind candy-sweet manners the instant she spotted Scorpio. “Ahfufufu! Why thank you for volunteering to be next! Let’s get you measured for your wardrobe!” 

“WHA-” 

Razor blinked up at the lights far above as he listened for another of those stifled yelps. One was fine, but two was bad - that much he knew without effort. A long moment passed, and all he heard was some angry hissing. . . and someone singing up in the rafters? A quick glance confirmed it to be Moon Unit up there. 

Dude was flipping through some sort of catalogue of dresses, as far as Razor could see. Harmless, on multiple levels. 

Shrugging, Razor let his shoulders relax, before going back to shoving a marble into each and every left pocket of the jackets on this rack. It was going to be important, just . . no idea which one. Midway through the third to last, the prompt faded. Razor blinked slowly at the rack. 

And decided to turn all the rest of the pockets inside-out. And then Dings’ pockets, as he stood staring off at nothing next to the rack. Resisting the urge to giggle - and ten gold richer - Razor snuck off to go buy some coffee. 

Steal some coffee. 

Buy? 

Either way, he had coffee now, and was watching their human with Murphy and Gemini as she proceeded to dance to the music playing over the store system. Maybe it was the coffee that had him slowly grinning - but not likely - as his gaze followed the sway and dip of her hips. The almost fluttering motions of her fingers - so close but not quite speaking in Hands. It was absolutely delightful, her complete lack of shame or concern for anything other than enjoying the music. He could ignore how some of the others were lurking nearby, or wandering over to watch. Even Dings was coming over to watch. 

And Dings just couldn’t help himself apparently. With almost calm nonchalance he had pulled out his phone and started recording her, a not-so-faint blush of yellow across his cheekbones despite his firm lack of smile. Sans nearly facepalmed from where he was still sitting on the couch, and gave his father a dirty look. “Seriously Dings? What the fuck.” 

“Shut up son. I’m _not_ posting this online.” 

Keet slowly leaned towards Dings, his eyes glued on the human utterly lost in the music coming over the store speakers. “ . . can I have a copy?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lordy this chapter is rough. It did NOT want to be written. And I currently don't have a beta reader, so I'm sure there's some grammar weirdness in there as well as obscure details. Or incoherence. But hopefully it's a fun chapter regardless.
> 
> You may notice this fic is now in a series! It is, because for October I'm writing a short one-shot, drabble, or bundle of nonsense depicting events all up and down the timelines of the AUs these Gasters are from. Some are key events, some are just funny things that happened between some of the characters of those AUs. Some are going to just be cute. Either way they're all lumped in a single collection I'll be updating daily to the best of my efforts!


	13. Webs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no such thing as a functioning infinite energy machine. You get out what you put in.

You had been a bit flustered to see the many more smiles to greet you when you finished boogie-ing down, and had accepted a cup of cocoa from Moon Unit to hide what was surely a massive blush behind. Dancing was fun, damnit! Even if you probably flailed about like a chicken with it’s head chopped off.

Clearing your throat, you glanced over and up at Dings, who had half-turned to peruse the coffee options at the cafe (BP was boredly glaring murder in your little group’s direction, clearly torn between the irritation of doing things and the staggering irritation of doing nothing). “Dings, all done?”

He answered half-distractedly. “Measurements yes, just need to fill out the form.”

You rolled your eyes as he started to turn towards the little cafe ~~the adorable distracted dork~~ and call out. “Raincoat, Dings. Raincoat and rainboots - and freaking underwear!” He’d entirely forgotten last time.

“And what if we don’t wear underwear, Precious?”  
You yelp, nearly smacking Razor in the face with your cocoa before you flailingly secure your precious drink, ignoring the yelp from behind you temporarily. The bastard had earlier stolen the last third of your coffee before this whole sneaking-up-to-whisper-in-your-ear bullshit!

And you give a low whine at the yank of pain in your chest as Razor swore - wingdings or not, swearing has a certain cadence to it - and rubbed at one of his eye sockets. Wobbling on your feet, you nearly slumped to the floor before two pairs of hands caught you, supporting you as the initial jolt faded. Despite the warmth the treats, and the coffee, and hell, _your cocoa_ had given, after that you’re just plain **tired** as the world comes back in around the grey edges.

Looking up into the worried eyelights of Dings and Moon Unit ~~how the fuck did he get down here so fast~~ you just croaked a quiet, ‘Ow’ up at them. And then frown a little in sheer confusion as they speak - and it just doesn’t make sense. “ . . wha-? S-something’s wrong . . “

 

The world swam around the edges, fading to shadows as . . . something happened. You were very vaguely aware of motion, unable to articulate the weird pull and tug that flailed about in your chest. At least not until four of the . . . directions? Directions seemed as good a word as any. Until three of the directions you were being pulled in abruptly pushed closer, no longer pulling but . . . 

 

_Oh, it was so warm . . ._

 

Warm, and each one was different - dry and clingy, soft and vibrantly energetic, almost fluffy and brittle, slow and deeply sweet (if tinged with a little bit of that weird spice-burn of cinnamon and licorice). Warm and in the contrast to before, you found words for what was going on.

 

The pulls were going out, needing the . . whatever it was you had in abundance normally, that you were giving out. And now these four were pouring something else back in, balancing out the pull.

 

It was doing **so much** to bolster you up out of the disorientation and weariness. You didn’t know when you’d closed your eyes, but you could feel Muffet’s padded couch under you, your head on someone’s lap. You were very certain it was someone’s lap, with the firmer shapes underneath the pillowing whatever-it-was under your head. And there were hands on you.

Not on your skin, but _intimately_ on you. 

Your eyes snapped open in alarm, revealing a well-lit blur that you couldn’t make heads or tails of and made your head hurt. Most of it was green or green-tinted, weirdly. Shutting your eyes with a whimpering groan, you slid your hand up to cover them. “ . . what happened . . ?”

The rustle of fabric, and a far-too-intimate shift of fingers that weren’t touching your body. It was overwhelming and horribly personal. It was flat out too much, wringing a broken sound from you as tears welled up in your closed eyes. You could hear a voice panickedly apologizing but none of the words sank in, beyond the general intent.

It . . didn’t entirely help.

Another hand came to rest over yours, the divots and bumps and ridges familiar. Smooth and rough and almost faintly chalky in it’s smell. The voice clinched it, as the hands on you stopped shifting. Dings.

With a crabby little grump, you muttered, “ . . stop talking about me in wingdings.”

“ . . feeling any better?”

“Hnnh . . “ Grunting isn’t flattering, but you’re just not up to much right now. “ . . better than before. What happened?”

Even in the darkness behind your hands (and his) you can feel Dings’ irritated sigh. It fills you with mild petty glee. The four-fold impression of varying degrees of amusement, confusion, and irritation nearly make you flinch. And confuses you, just what was going on?

Dings lifts his hand to poke you in the forehead. The contact jolts you out of your confusion (mostly), and you flex your fingers. “You are the stabilizing force behind our presence here. Somehow your soul is . . . working overtime to provide whatever this is. The connection . . “

His voice trailed off, and Gemini’s deeper voice picked up. Funny, while he was speaking, ,you got a bit more of that spicy feeling. “It’s similar to a soulmate bond, from what I can see while still having . . . a very biased point of view.”

“Biased?”

“I am inside the connection, with the others, to you. There is no chance of my or any of our views on this being unbiased.”

“Right . . . so what’s going on? Why am I tasting licorice?”

You could almost hear the glance between them. Slightly lifting your hands, you opened your eyes a little, waiting patiently for the mix of darkness and green to stop being quite so blurry.

“I . . have no idea what licorice is. But as for what’s going on . . your soul is expending a _great deal of effort on our behalf_. We are just giving some energy, some of our magic in return to replenish you.”

“Honestly I feel better after donating, Miss! Better-balanced, and not like I’ve got too much spare magic anymore.”  
Keet pipes up - surprising you a little. You hadn’t really thought he was anywhere nearby this part of the store. And yet it wasn’t a surprise at all, as if he’d been right at your side the entire time.  
“Also, I made sure my blasters were sent home, Miss.”

“Huh . . . I definitely don’t feel as tired . . . also, did Razor get my cocoa in his eyesockets or something? That _hurt_.” You lift your fingers a bit further, letting your eyes adjust to the small view you could peep at the world. It was informative, leading you to completely miss Murphy’s reply as you studied the situation literally at hand(s). And explained the intrusively intimate feeling still happening. “ . . . dudes, did this seriously require my soul to be out?”

You asked because that was definitely the case, with your soul casting it’s soft, kelly-green glow upon the world. Kindness was your dominant trait, according to the Soul Scan study five years ago, and your secondary traits were patience and justice. Which did explain why the glow of your soul was such a variable green, despite its visual appearance being dominantly green with little washes of blue and warm yellow chasing each other across it.

Each one of them had a hand stretched out to it, fingertips just lightly touching your soul. The contact was clearly being kept as light as possible, but still felt far too intimate for people who were barely acquaintances. Even with the situation your back was crawling with unease and discomfort over it all.

Them being Keet, Gemini, Dings, and Murphy. You could see Murphy and Keet kneeling next to the couch, and Gemini was sitting under your legs. Which left Dings as the lap-provider, something that . . kinda surprised you. He was getting used to contact - you were a hugger. But this seemed a bit more than you thought he was up for at this point in your relationship with him.

Keet was half-flopped onto a slowly leaning away Murphy. That seemed much more in character than Dings providing a lap for you to rest on to your befuddled mind. All these details became lower priority as Moon Unit finally spoke up, drawing your attention to the fact you and your small group were surrounded by . . curtains? Held up glowing disembodied hands?

You’d seen the summoned hands before. And the curtains seemed to be the robes Muffet kept on hand for tricky measurements/fittings. But this combination threw you a bit for a loop. “-judging in comparison to earlier, we may be fine now. How do you feel, Angel?”

Oh yeah, Moon Unit talking. You responded to the nickname first.  
“Angel?”

“It’s a less vaguely rude than Anchor, ya know?”

“Okay. Um, way less tired? Kinda prickly in general though.”

“scared the hell out of us, brick.”  
You only just resisted the urge to roll your eyes at Sans’ use of that old nickname drifting through the concealing curtains. Finally letting your hands drop to rest on the couch, you called back. “Didn’t exactly plan on that happening in the first place, Snas.”

“ugh, really?”

“Bleeble to you too.”  
A long moment, and you both broke down giggling for a few seconds - a bit longer for you, with the confused looks on Murphy and Keet’s faces being well worth a titter. You waved a hand at them. “S’long inside joke.”

Pitching your voice a bit louder again, you added, “I’m just waiting for them to finish up, or decide this is done.”

“right. anyways, crim ‘n edge are done, we’ll be heading out after gorse finishes fillin’ out their order. overwatch on friday?”

“Yah. Go on, have a good one - ‘n good luck with the listings.”

“heh. i’ll let you know how it goes. seeya later brick.”

“Buh-bye.”  
You were smiling as Indie’s footsteps faded away, and Dings stared down at you with a faintly odd, slightly sour expression that quickly swept away. Mutual staring happened for the next few seconds, before Dings voiced part of what was on his mind. “Why does he call you ‘Brick’ sometimes?”

“It’s a bit of a story . . “

“We have time yet!”  
Keet chirped from where he was sitting. And then groaned in irritation after Moon Unit stepped through the curtain to lean against Keet. The taller skeleton ignored the noise in favor of giving you a soft smile. “There’s time - after all, Aries, Razor, Scorpio, and I haven’t yet done our donations - ow!”

Keet had poked him in the hip pretty harshly, half-shoving the taller skeleton off with a frown.  
Your jaw had dropped on the start of a protest before Moon Unit’s raised hand cut you off. “I must insist. Your effort on our behalf is equal among us - we should make sure the return is evenly given. Balance seems . . important here.”

“Equalized pressure.” Murphy muttered from his spot, as he dropped his skull to rest on the couch, eyelights just visible under the shadow of his hood as he peered up at you the length of the couch. As soon as he realized you were watching back, his eyelights went wide before he turned his face to bury it into the couch.

Dings cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him as he spoke. “There is at least five, maybe seven more minutes before we finish . . so, the reason behind the nickname?”

“Well, it all started with a protest about two or three years after the Barrier broke - I’d only known Sans a month at that point . . .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! You may have noticed this fic is now part of a series! That's because for October, I'm trying to make sure I write a ficlet a day of various things involving Non-Gasters within the world of this fic, all collected under a single title. It's a little random, and all over the timeline, but hopefully entertaining!


	14. Bricks, Backpacks, Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long quiet moment, some history, and plenty of NERDS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lordy this chapter fought me to a standstill. Oddly enough, Deltarune has very little to do with why this chapter is so late. So sorry folks!

“ . . sheesh, gonna need to give some context. How many of you are familiar with the game Dungeons and Dragons?”

A chorus of negative responses rose up around you, and you just shrugged. Fine. All of the four in contact can feel your glee and love for the game You could explain to them- very cautiously, you peeled a hand up off your eyes, wondering just how the light now felt before you spoke.

The light stung but after a few seconds it more or less came into focus, as you patiently blinked and tried to keep them open. And then there was no way you were closing your eyes, as you confirmed just what the source of that green glow was. Your soul.

It bobbed softly, a slow, languid sway that was mesmerizing. Something you’d only seen a few times over the past decade, and usually because someone got spooked. It’d been a much richer, vivid green before - this was a bit pale, the swirls of blue and yellow just a bit more visible than usual.

The hands just barely touching it belonged to Dings, Gemini, Murphy, and Keet - and to your mild surprise it was direct contact, not through their whole ‘disembodied hands’ trick. Even Dings, who up until a few weeks ago had been very skittish about any sort of contact. It . . felt nice? Personal? Just . . . something about that fact was a warm and fuzzy feeling on your part. Or maybe that was the soft wash of what was very clearly their magic that ebbed and swirled around your soul. Sinking into it a bit at a time.

You’d worry if it didn’t distinctly feel so much better. Averting your eyes after the few ha seconds you needed to take that all in, you cleared your throat-

And coughed on a sudden inhale. You hadn’t expected Keet to be less than two feet away from your face! And he had sexy long arms You gave him mildly annoyed look as you wrestled your breathing back under control, only sort-of aware of Dings running his fingers soothingly along the top of your head.

Keet shrank back a little, giving you a sheepish and apologetic smile. Just a little twitch before giving you an intensely worried look. “Are you-”

“I’m fine . . hh, I’m fine! Just wasn’t . . expecting you there.”

“I’m sorry Miss, I sincerely wasn’t intending to startle you.”

“S’okay - where was I? Oh, yeah, Dungeons and Dragons. Right, it’s a storytelling game structure, with stats, dice to add randomization, and a structure to make things work smoothly. I’ve been playing for years, and running the game for almost as long. ” 

Giving a quick rundown on the game, and your role in running it turned into a longer than intended explanation as Keet, Moon Unit, and surprisingly Dings seemed rather intrigued by the idea of it. It was easier than dealing with . . . well, the confirmed realization that it was your soul that was out, that they were all touching.

“So most of the game relies on a d-twenty - a die with twenty sides. It’s used for nearly everything, using a skill like sneaking or even diplomacy, and for combat.”

Kinda like how something wouldn’t hurt until you’d actually looked at it.

“Because higher or lower stats give a bonus or a penalty, depending on the skill or the weapon being used in combat, the bonus or the penalty is added to the roll and the total used to find out if the player was successful.”

You’d been very close to freaking out for a few seconds, and if there hadn’t been such a steady, reassuring mix of curiosity, concern, and budding affection faintly seeping in with the whatever it was they were feeding back into you, you probably would have freaked. But the nebulous sensation was so warm and each so distinctly different . . . 

“Oh, there’s special bonuses to rolling a twenty - it’s a guaranteed hit or success and -glk!”  
Razor had shoved a cake pop in your mouth.

The sugary sweetness was delightful, the introduction of it rude. You gagged lightly, before viciously chomping down on the sweet and giving him a put-out glance. There was not even a hint of apology in his expression as he plopped down on the floor next to Keet, leaning over just enough to avoid the annoyed swat from the other skeleton.

He was the very air of serenity, despite the glares he was getting. Scorpio seemed more amused than anything else though. You grumped faintly, and worked on consuming your sweet treat . . . that it was pure magic food - a pretty expensive item on Muffet’s menu no less - was a bit of a surprise.

The tingle as it turned into energy in the back of your throat always made you gag a bit, reminding you of good tea and bad head colds at the same time. Scorpio, moving aside the blanket to stand next to Dings’ end of the couch, finally made a mildly annoyed noise. “Move, time to switch.”

 

“How are we even all going to -whoa, wait!”

“Oh, that felt . .”

“Fucking nasty.”

“Language!”

“Fuck you.”

“Later boys.”

“Ew.”

“How rude you all are, but then by making that comment I suppose I’m not any better.”

There were other comments in the mess of conversation, but those were the ones you really heard through the swimming your head was intent on doing. The initial demand had started off a whole awkward sequence of shifting and swapping spots. You’d lost track of how things happened due to every time one of them moved a hand away from your soul, there was a twingy sort of jolt, a hollow-feeling moment that made your head swim all over again before one of the others took their place. It was . . pretty overwhelming, and it seemed like they could feel it too . . ?

 

Somehow Dings resisted all attempts to move him from under your head which swam every time a hand lifted away, until the next touched, and both Scorpio and Razor were crammed in the other end of the couch under your legs.

. . . actually that was more Razor had somehow managed to invade Scorpio’s personal space and was completely ignoring her displeasure over the fact.   
Keet, Murphy, Dings, and Gemini looked downright nauseous, Razor, Scorpio, and Moon Unit looked vaguely uncomfortable . . and Aries was staring out at nothing without the barest hint of anything other than irritation in his expression, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t that pale before. He was standing like a sentinel next to couch, scowling at everybody as his fingers just barely touched your soul.

Scorpio jammed her elbow into Razor’s rib cage as she leaned slightly forward to meet your gaze. There was something sharp and on-edge about her expression, although you weren’t exactly sure what was the cause. At best guess, it was the situation as a whole, or maybe Razor himself. “You were about to explain the nickname . . ?”

Her eyelights were very intently focused on you. Okay, so less request than demand, but she was being polite. You shrugged slightly. “In short? It’s because one of the bullies that I caught beating on Papyrus - who I hadn’t even met yet - kept asking if my backpack was full of bricks to the police after I ended smacking the hell out of them. I’d called the emergency line before heading down the alleyway to try to rescue who I thought was a kid - I don’t regret doing it, Paps is a sweetie and deserves support - and I had a backpack full of Dungeons and Dragons books because I’d just finished running a session for the local ‘Intro To D&D’ group.”

“Bullshit.” Aries was scowling directly at you now, and his clear disbelief . . actually stung quite a bit. You refused to let that show, glancing up at the ceiling as you stamped the response down. Completely missing his surprised flinch at the echo of the pain he’d just caused, the split second of sheer horror on his skull before he locked that down

“Not bullshit. I was carrying over twenty pounds of books and other gear in that pack. Get a good angle ‘cause shitheads never think a woman can take them on, and even a tall, burly guy will go down. Mostly it was luck, but I clocked the ringleader in the head and he hit the dumpster hard enough to daze him. I’ve . . “ You really didn’t want to discuss your health problems with this crew. At the very least not here. “ . . got a rather high pain tolerance, so . . I just ignored their punches as best I could and fought as hard as I could.”

“The police arrived after only a few minutes, so it worked . . and either way, there was a recording of everything said and heard. I left the call to the emergency line open and kept my phone out of their way. So every slur, insult, and threat were on record in their own voices. In the aftermath as the police were taking our statements, Papyrus kinda latched onto the idea my backpack was full of bricks, and called me ‘BRICK HUMAN’ in that way he did back then. It gradually shortened to ‘Brick’, and both he and Sans now use it as a nickname for me.”

Dings very carefully kept his hand relaxed on your head. The other slowly dug a set of holes into the back of the couch, his phalanges glowing faintly with magic to bleed out the chaotic mix of emotion he **refused** to show before any of those here. And he wasn’t about to harm you even by accident over something that was clearly long dealt-with. 

He could feel the faint vibrations as someone else dug their phalanges into the top of the couch. The faint hiss and pop of ripping fabric. Maybe it was a relief when Keet leaned in to give you a one-armed hug, ignored the whisper of a growl from Dings. “That’s still alarming! I’m glad you’re alright, but that’s still alarming to hear about!”

You giggled, absently booping his nose ridge as you replied. “I’m fine, there wasn’t any sort of lasting damage to me from it. And they all got charged and sentenced for the crime with that much evidence stacked against them.”

After a moment of thought, as Keet sputtered and flushed a mix of orange and cyan, you added, “I think all three of them moved away after serving their sentences. I haven’t seen them in town in years, or heard of them.”

Then Muffet’s voice broke through the silence that followed, sharp and tart with impatience. “Dearies, I know you’re all _having a moment_ in there, but I **don’t** have unlimited time to take measurements.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter was a balky tantrum-throwing toddler while trying to write it, and here it is. I'm afraid minimally edited - I have a feeling if I sit on this any longer trying to polish it up, I'll never post it and I honestly want to get back into the meat of the story rather than go idle. This chapter actually sucked all my energy out to write more of Dimensional Fragments, and that ficlet collection usually jumpkicks my writing each day!


	15. Power Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes. Sometimes time passes without much fanfare. Settling in starts to happen. Of course, with this group there's no way it would happen entirely smoothly.

Waking up . . . felt wonderful, even if there were some warm but hard lumpy things all around you. Again. Yawning quietly, you slowly blinked your eyes open, lazily regarding the living room - the TV was on again, playing an episode of Cosmos. There were no skeletons in sight.

One of the hard things squirmed, wriggling into the squish of your stomach, and mildly confused you turned to look. You were covered in Blasters. Again. Mostly the smaller ones, but one big one was resting on your hip and had clearly been there a while - your hip was starting to prickle with pins-and-needles. Turning to look at it was a bit difficult, as the big one whined each time a shift started sliding it off its perch. Meeting those lazy eye sockets, you only had one thing to say.

“I meant it, if this becomes a habit I’m giving you all a _bath_.”

It just whined at you and shut its eye sockets in a clear sleepy pout, while the little ones yelped and zoomed off to other parts of the house.

The way their eye sockets could close like that was weird in and of itself, but by now you’d caught Dings, Razor, and Gemini passed out ~~on the kitchen table~~ ~~dining table~~ ~~that closet under the stairs~~ ~~up in the rafters of the attic~~ ~~his desk~~ ~~the washer~~ somewhere in the house at least once a week the past sixteen days. It was a little concerning considering that Dings was such a spazzy dork when woken out of sound sleep, and Razor was _worse_. (Gemini always awoke as soon as you stepped close)

The Blaster Incident is why the Poking Stick now lived on the left wall of the pantry shelves.

Maybe this was your life now, trapped under the blaster napping on your hip. You contemplated this idea for a few seconds before rolling over and dumping the ‘poor creature’ onto the couch as you wiggled off said couch. You could smell the chinese food from lunch still, and you were frankly starving.

Every time you took a nap since the trip to Muffet’s, you woke up to a blaster napping on your hip (you had always been a side sleeper, tho necessity had trained you into being able to sleep on your back with extra pillows to prop you up) and a great deal of **hunger**. Usually you would either have a snack - lordy were you coming to outright loathe the feel of magic food turning into energy, but on the plus side it meant no dairy was actually reaching your guts - or just start cooking if it was close to a mealtime.

That’s right, hunger was the name of the game right now.

As your former hip-buddy snuggled into the warm spot you left behind on the couch, you limped wandered through the house to the kitchen, pausing to take in the view before you when you noticed Scorpio sorting cans in the pantry. A genuinely lovely view, with her silhouetted by the window behind her, causing almost a glow around her and highlighting the faint opalescence her bones had. It sincerely wasn’t fair that she looked _that good_ in a sleeveless grey turtleneck, high-waist black hot pants, and thigh-high mulberry boots. 

She moved with a trim efficiency, a sparse, strict grace that just . . worked for her. Judging by the bit you could see of her expression, she was bored out of her mind. Or had some obscure vendetta against canned peas.

Your stomach growled in protest. _This ogling of ~~hot~~ pretty skeletons was not getting food!_

Scorpio didn’t so much startle as **explode** at the unexpected sound, her hand whipping up in your direction as bones rose from the floor and walls, sharp ends pointed directly towards you. Her eyes flared with power, orange mist leaking out the sides of her sockets and wisping upwards. With a squeak you jolted back a step, unaware of just how close the ones behind you were.

Scorpio’s eyes widened, snapping her hand up in a sharp gesture towards the ceiling. Deflecting them, a few hitting the ceiling before they dissolve into nothingness. Looking upwards, you . . . really couldn’t find it in yourself to complain about the holes, your knees going weak and a chill racing down your spine at how damned _close_ that was. Swallowing hard, you turned your gaze back to Scorpio.

You heart sunk at the gaunt look on her face, several different emotions flickering over her skull as she stared at you. Which is probably why the first thing to come to mind popped out of your mouth.  
“I get your point.”

At that, Scorpio’s skull screwed up a bit, before her expression went completely flat. “The fuck.”

You? You realized just what you had said a second later and slapped a hand over your face. A dim corner of your brain realized that had to be the very first time you’d ever heard her swear. The rest was cringing. _That joke had been horrible._

It was still better than thinking about the cold feeling in your gut, the vague chill to your fingertips. You weren’t hungry at the moment, but habit had you moving, fleeing into the kitchen. Vaguely you were aware of the click of heels moving away from you, the creak of the back stairs. It was still weird how faint the creaking was compared to the average college student. The only one who had made those old stairs barely creak at all like that had been a tiny, petite Asian overseas renter that barely reached your underbust. They’d had the build of a toothpick in stompy boots.

Taking a deep breath, you just . . . went about starting dinner. It was easier than trying to force yourself to work through that event right now. Staring blankly into the fridge for however many minutes it took you to realize it. Then staring blankly at the cutting board, wondering when you’d diced up all these vegetables. Wondering when you’d cut up the tofu, and put it between two plates to start gently pressing out the excess moisture.

Another deep breath.

Another.

Something started sliding into place in your mind, pushed by fragments of memory.

“ . . . that . . “  
You swallowed again, staring at the backsplash, tracing the pattern and shapes with your eyes as you let your thoughts swirl and settle. Replaying those few seconds of the near-miss in your head. She hadn’t been reacting to you, she’d been reacting to the sound.

“ . . . that wasn’t directed at _me_. She didn’t know it was _**me**._ ”  
Scorpio’s gaze had been blank. At the moment you hadn’t really noticed it, but in hindsight it was clear. It was a look you’d seen before, before when the first microwave had it’s messy death. When a crow called out in the middle of the night. At some jackass using an airhorn at two AM. 

On Moon Unit, when faced with things he’d had no chance to expect. On Aries when something moved near him in the dark. _On Murphy when people outside drew too close._

“ . . . they’ve got . . some sort of problem. PTSD? Seems likely . . “  
The words tumbled from you without forethought, just matching in your head to what you’d personally witnessed since their arrival. And made far too much sense, sliding in like almost the perfect piece to the puzzle . . which made you wary. No answer was that smooth when it came to people, and frankly was a thornier problem in and of itself. You were not a therapist, psychiatrist, or psychologist.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your attention back to what you were doing. Cutting things while distracted was not a good idea, and you were damned lucky to have not nicked your fingers or even lost one earlier. Moving to the drawers left of the sink, you quickly retrieved some biodegradable disposable gloves from the bottom one.

These serrano peppers weren’t going to cut themselves, and no way in hell were you chopping them barehanded.

Really, the sting in the air from them as you removed the seeds and diced up the two peppers (which considering you were making a more than double batch of a normally potent recipe was probably not enough) helped settle your thoughts. The adrenaline from that moment in the back hall was settling down again. Only to prickle up a little bit as Scorpio cleared her throat from next to you, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Your throat was tight as you stared down at the cutting board, regarding how close the knife was to your fingers. Slowly, you set it aside, on the far end of the board from the peppers. Curling your fingers on the edge of the board nearest your body, you leaned on them, letting your back arch as you tried to stretch out the stress. “ . . . yes, Scorpio?”

You didn’t see the moment of alarm that crossed her skull at how faint your voice was, or how her eyelights dropped to pinpoints as she scanned the cutting board. “I apologize for my timing. I didn’t realize you were busy.” 

The ‘with something sharp’ was clear in tone. Which flattened a bit as she continued, something wary in her stance, in the framing of her shoulders as you half-turned to look at her.

Or maybe unreadable, as you gaze rose up to her face. After a few moments, her expression started to flatten further and you realized you hadn’t said anything yet. “Oh-apology accepted. Sorry, blanked a bit there . . you know, I realized yesterday I could probably stuff my head in Moon Unit’s rib cage without having to bend over more than a smidge.”

 

The sheer, baffled awkward stretched out for several seconds as you stared at her and she stared back. And then you both broke out into snickering giggles. Probably more than the statement really merited, but it was such a relief to have the tension break. “And that has nothing to do with the price of beans in China right now. I’m sorry, Scorpio, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What . . was that sound?”

“Oh, that? That was my stomach! It sometimes makes that sound when I’m hungry, or busy digesting a large meal.” You give her a sheepish smile. “I don’t really have any control over it.”

Scorpio nodded slowly at that, straightening up and unfolding her arms. Gesturing to the ingredients, she asked quietly, “Do you need assistance with dinner?”

Your smile widened, that heavy feeling in your chest lightening - lightening even further at her faint return smile. “I’d like that a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's who!
> 
> Scorpio - Outerfell Gaster  
> Aries - Underfell Gaster  
> Moon Unit - Outerswap Gaster  
> Dings - Undertale Gaster  
> Razor - Swapfell Gaster  
> Murphy - Fellswap Gaster  
> Keet - Underswap Gaster  
> Gemini - Outertale Gaster


	16. Flipflops and Thongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot creeps onwards! Worldbuilding happens! ~~And not everybody likes purely magical food~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UT Gaster - Dings  
> UF Gaster - Aries  
> US Gaster - Keet  
> SF Gaster - Razor  
> FS Gaster - Murphy  
> OT Gaster - Gemini  
> OF Gaster - Scorpio  
> OS Gaster - Moon Unit

The next morning dawned with the lack of something. You stared out your door, sniffing the air and studying the twenty-foot pine bushes your grandfather had planted over five decades ago. Once you’d thought it was to block the view of the neighbors in that direction, later to block the view of the road leading into the cul de sac. Nowadays, you were pretty sure it was for both those reasons _and_ a few more you’d never know.

You used them to help judge what the weather was going to be for the day.  
Waving? It’s windy.  
Waving and spraying pollen? It’s a windy spring day and they want to kill you.  
Looking extra green? It’s either raining or going to rain.  
Kinda yellow-y and drooping a bit? Incoming or current heat wave.

The bushes were definitely a bit yellow. Lovely. With a grumpy grunt, you shut the door and went to change. Between the lack of the a morning chill and clear lack of any sort of wind, today was not going to be a day for pants. Or sneakers.

Successfully equipped with shorts and your sandals (and a lighter t-shirt with an all-new snarky saying), you made your way to the main house, intent on starting breakfast. An intent that waned a bit halfway to the door, as the rich scent of vanilla, baking pastry, and cinnamon wafted past you with the faint strains of music coming from the open window of the back door. It really was an irresistible scent, and you leapt up the steps to said door two at a time.

Stepping past the laundry room, you peered into the kitchen with a grin. And froze, stunned. Something squeezed in your chest, fluttering in a delighted, nervous way.

Moon Unit was standing at the oven, bent over to peer in at the lit interior, and looking absolutely _beautiful_ drifting slowly through the air. (Out of all of them, Moon Unit spent the least amount of time on the ground, not that it ever got in the way of baking.) Today’s outfit was a soft, filmy long skirt with receding layers - the shortest was the innermost - and a lace-on-cotton tunic top. Both garments drifted dreamily around Moon Unit, only somewhat affected by gravity.

The effect was surreal, and simply **gorgeous**. The contrast of soft, flowing fabric to the elegant lines of bone . . . There was no way you weren’t blushing, as the flutter crept down past your stomach and left you feeling distinctly off-balance. The sensation was unnervingly intense in its newness. ~~It was distinctly unfair, how attractive they all could be.~~

And grew alarmingly stronger when Moon Unit glanced up at you and _beamed_. He - they? - quickly set down the towel they - he? - was holding. “Brick! Good morning!”

“G-good morning!” What the hell was wrong with you, having this response? Shoving it down, you quickly slapped a smile on. You _were_ happy to see her-him-them? See them this morning! ~~Just also awkward/unnerved/out of sorts~~ “Um, what pronouns are you today?”

As Moon Unit blinked at you slowly, hesitating slightly on their approach in confusion, you rambled onwards. “I mean, I have a few friends who are genderfluid, and some days they’re he/him, she/her, or they/them and it varies, and some folks are almost always one gender until theyr’e not, but I don’t know if that’s how you feel about it-”

_How could bone be so warm._

“He/him is fine - I’ll let you know if that changes.” Moon Unit smiles as he settles on the ground, pulling his finger back from your lips from when he’d cut off your nervous word spew. “I just felt like something lighter today.”

“You look gorgeous.” The compliment slips off your lips easily, and for a moment you panic - was that too much? But Moon Unit is smiling, and lightly taps the tip of your nose. “Boop.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax, feeling the unfamiliar nerves ebb a bit with the familiar teasing. Crossing your arms, you lean against the counter, watching as he drifts back to the oven. Flicking on the light, he studies whatever’s in the oven with a more casual, but no less pleased smile.

“What’s for breakfast?” You were genuinely curious - it smelled marvelous and you were getting quite hungry. He hummed, reaching for the oven mitts hanging on the wall above the stove. You loved those oven mitts, they were shaped like a pair of ducks, the beaks made from heat-resistant silicone and padded to be comfortable.

It was bizarrely adorable to watch Moon Unit use them to pull out two trays of cinnamon buns from the oven. Even if one of the trays had a blue-ish tint that made you grimace slightly. You were **very** tired of having purely magic food.

The way it disappeared practically mid-swallow still tickled your gag reflex something fierce. 

Moon Unit wasn’t looking at you thankfully, his attention on finishing up the cinnamon rolls - he had two bowls of icing being mixed smooth by sets of cyan and yellow hand bullets. With the ease of long practice, he was shifting the hot rolls from the baking tray to the larger serving platters with the aid of more hands and what looked to be every spatula stored in this kitchen. Watching him move, the overall sweetness of the scene just felt . . . right. It left something soft and warm and gentle in your chest, a slow moment that had you shifting to sit on one of the stools without being aware of it as you relaxed.

Smiling, you leaned an arm on the counter and your chin on your hand. Sure, this wouldn’t take long, but it was worth watching the aerial ballet that was Moon Unit moving about. Once again, your gaze flickered over to his feet, and the frankly almost alarmingly large holes in them. If it weren’t for how smooth and perfectly circular the edge was . . . 

Okay, you were still damned curious about it, and the question popped out before you could check it this time. “Are the holes the reason you float most of the time?”

“Mmm?” His response was distracted, as he focused on drizzling an even layer of frosting on the cinnamon rolls.

You nibble your lower lip for a second before giving in. You’ve already asked, might as well finish the questions. “Your feet, I mean. Are the holes the reason you float most of the time?”

“ . . . hm. Well, it is uncomfortable to walk for very long.” Moon Unit stared thoughtfully over the near distance, before shaking himself and picking up the two platters of cinnamon rolls. Offering one to you, which you take. “Here, mind giving a hand? Thank you dear. It’s also the gravity plates were usually off in the navigation cockpit, so I’m just plain used to floating more than walking.”

“ . . . navigation cockpit . . ?”

At that, Moon Unit paused, half-turning to look back at you with a puzzled look. “For the worldship? . . . oh.” Apparently the confusion in your expression told him something, because he paused, a hand manifesting to curl around his chin as he thought.

“There must be bigger differences than I thought . . . Since Wing is likely still asleep yet could you describe what happened here? The local legend?”

Frowning in confusion, you nevertheless obliged with the Delta Rune legend. At least with the parts you knew - about the war, how the monsters were sealed within the mountain, and how seven souls had been needed to break the barrier keeping the monsters trapped in the caverns. As you spoke Moon Unit’s expression became steadily more blank, more hands taking the platter of cinnamon rolls as he relinquished it to pull out a tablet and started . . typing on a translucent keyboard . . . that hovered above the glass.

That seriously distracted you for a few seconds. Somehow, he had tech better than the latest and best out in the market. Or was secretly related to Washu, and considering Washu was fictional . . supposedly . . . that didn’t seem likely.

Still . . you waited until he paused in his typing, and seemed likely to not be losing a major thought before you interrupted. Plus, there were cinnamon rolls to get on the table. The smell alone was going to have the others stirring, if the music hadn’t already woken them up. 

“Moon Unit, I thought the monsters were isolated? I mean, you’ve got tech that outstrips Alphys’ work by a couple years, and she’s been cranking advancements and stuff that outstripped anything human-made at a frankly terrifying rate.” You gave him a puzzled, slightly sheepish smile. “I mean, interactive holographic interface? Way above and beyond still.”

“Mm? Ah. That is true, we were isolated, but I’m not sure how to explain this- ” He glanced down at the display hovering above his tablet, then firmly swiped a finger across it. The softly glowing hologram blipped away. “Without explaining parts of my history and finding out more about the others. Which after hearing that legend, I think we all need to share our individual experiences about. There are . . very large differences between what you told me and what I know.”

Setting the blank surface next to his spot, he gestured towards the doorway that faced the main hallway, where it was easy to see a yawning Razor and neatly-dressed Gemini were heading down the stairs. Gemini was wearing a neck-to-floor robe, and the fabric moved like it was on the heavy side.

You frowned, a bit worried about that. Did skeletons not feel high temperatures? Would your housemates feel the heat at all? Or would there be complications due to the whole being lost in the void thing?

“I don’t understand-”

Moon Unit cut you off with a gentle finger to your lips again. You were kinda tempted to bite it, this time. Even if it was distractingly warm and pleasant. Frowning, you set the platter on the table. It fit neatly between the two bowls of scrambled eggs, basket of biscuits, and the platter of sausages.

Moon Unit gave you an apologetic smile as Razor slouched his way into his chair, then set his head down on his plate. “This is something you may want a notebook to take notes on if what I suspect is true, and . . “ 

His voice trailed off as he stared across the table at Razor - who was attempting to pour the mug of coffee next to his plate into his mouth without lifting his head. And succeeding. Moon Unit shuddered slightly at that, before giving you a tight smile. “Food first, then long and probably convoluted jumble of history afterwards.”

“Hell, I’m going to need to crack out my colored pens, aren’t I.”

“It would probably help keep the details straight.”

Gemini paused mid-serving on the other side of the table, frowning at Moon Unit. “Just what are you talking about?”

“There’s more variation than just the few oddities we talked about, Gemini.”

“Oh.” Looking stunned, Gemini blinked a few times in surprise (it always looked so faintly weird, like there was a second lid that closed just a bit faster than the outer set) before shaking his head and turning back to his food.

Huffing softly at the lack of answer, you decided to go ahead and deal with your growling appetite first - being dizzy and drained because you forgot to eat was really not fun. And really, everything smelled awesome. Even the pure-magic cinnamon rolls.

You spaced bites of that one out and around other things, or even with bites of a regular cinnamon roll. Anything to let you have to deal with that nauseating sensation the least amount of time possible. Breakfast passed in a slow, quiet murmur of idle conversation and chewing. The most excitement happened when Keet stabbed a cinnamon roll with a sausage and ate it that way.

Watching the various reactions was entertaining, even with almost everybody mostly used to Keet’s eccentric approach to food sometimes. The one faintly sour, mostly blank expression caught your eye, and you turned your focus on him. Of course it was Dings.

A faint pang echoed up from your chest, sad and a touch wistful. He’d been pulling back from you, in the wake of all these other skeletons. Funny thing was, you were seeing more of him than ever before. He’d be there almost every time one of the others sought you out, or you stumbled across them.

But he didn’t step close anymore. No idle gestures or contact - heck, he didn’t even try to block you off from the coffee after eight pm anymore. And it hurt, losing that casual closeness. That was on your mind, and the reason you raised your voice to speak in the middle of whatever Moon Unit was starting to say.

“I haven’t told y’all I’m demisexual yet, have I?”

In the record-scratch of startled, awkward silence that followed, Gemini quietly cleared his throat and gestured towards your chest. "I suppose the shirt is an accurate warning then. 'I came, I saw, I made it awkward'?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS NOT DEAD!
> 
> But I have blown through my buffer, and I'm now down to the slower progress of posting as I write it up. And frankly sometimes that's slower than a sloth in molasses. I'm not happy about it, but pushing just stresses me out and takes all the fun out of writing out for me. Techno helps sometimes, and today's chapter is brought to you in completed form by [Blümchen](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jasmin_Wagner), a new find on spotify for me.


	17. SRZ BZNZ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serious conversation happens! And wow, can you not focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undertale = Dings  
> UnderFell = Aries  
> UnderSwap = Keet  
> Swapfell = Razor  
> FellSwap = Murphy  
> OuterTale = Gemini  
> OuterFell = Scorpio  
> OuterSwap = Moon Unit

_“I haven’t told y’all I’m demisexual yet, have I?”_

You’d said that just a few seconds ago, and despite Gemini’s attempt at levity following up, you could almost feel the confusion emitting from around the table. Embarrassment mixed with unease ~~there was so many bad ways they could take this~~ as you took a deep breath and chuckled a bit sheepishly. “Uh, yeah . . I bought the shirt a few years ago, because it’s pretty accurate. But . . yeah, I’m demisexual, and honestly thought I was asexual until a few years back. . . “

Your voice trailed off awkwardly as the air of sheer confusion and even some irritation rose in intensity slowly. It kind of wasn’t surprising. The definition for ‘asexual’ that you were using was a fairly recent addition, and even Razor with his lazy, erratic ways could be intensely nerdy. The now heavily modified lawn mower could attest to that.

Murphy just whipped out that familiar pink and white book out of _somewhere_ and proceeded to stuttering-ly aloud from it. “A-asexuality. An in-ndividual who does not feel att-tracted to others sexually. Can range from h-hav-ving a typ-pical libido to a very m-muted or even no sex drive at all. Asexuals c-can range from sex-repulsed to sex-positive. Those who do or have felt attr-raction sometimes classify themselves as ‘gray asexual’, and may only feel attraction rarely, or in a very muted way . . . ”

As he continued, the stuttering faded, sitting up a little straighter as his words were heard. It was freaking adorable, and watching Murphy just . . bloom in this moment, his eyelights bright and focused on the pages, felt wonderful. That he was gesturing with a bit of sausage on the end of his fork didn’t make it any less heartwarming. He wasn’t getting it anywhere near the book either.

The sausage came to rest on his plate as Murphy hummed thoughtfully, reading a bit further in the book. Dings cleared his throat, causing Murphy to startle. Pushing onwards, Dings asked, “And of the term demisexual . . ?”

Murphy shrugged, his gaze dropping to his food as he tucked the book away. By the way his head was slowly lowering and his shoulders were creeping up earward, he was clearly not comfortable with being the focus of attention.. “It-t-t’s n-not in h-here . . .”

You gave Dings a bit of a flat look, before grabbing a cinnamon roll off the platter and slinging it his way. Having it bounce off his face onto his plate was pretty satisfying, actually. Petty, but you had to be honest with yourself. “You _could_ just ask me.”  
Keet, snickering, turned that lopsided happy smile of his on you. He’d dressed down a bit, wearing a light-looking button up shirt and you were fairly certain were a pair of capris with his usual boots. He definitely did not match the wallpaper.

(Which in the dining room was a pale grey-yellow-green floral pattern, sun-faded and barely more than white.)

Leaning his chin on his hand, he gave you a wider smile as he gestured towards you with his free hand. It was an elegant flick of the wrist, very smooth. “Then, Miss Brick, could you tell us what Demisexual means? Is the root latin misleading?”

“That’d be . . what, half-sexual? Actually, it’s not that far off, in a way. Demisexuals are sorted under the ‘Ace’ umbrella in Queer culture - Queer is a term for anyone of a sexual or romantic orientation outside of the 'mainstream'.” There was no way they could miss the very sarcastic air quotes you gestured as you spoke the word. After, you picked up a roll, idly turning it in your fingers. “Mainstream being male and attracted to females, or female attracted to males, in the local culture. In other parts of the world, the structure is different, but with the ease of modern communications the lines are starting to blur.”

 

Taking a sip of water gave them time to let that sink in, and for you to roll your eyes in exasperation at society. The amount of bullshit in ‘mainstream’ . . . Holding up a finger to cut off any questions, you continued. “So back to Demisexual. As I understand it, to be demi is to not feel sexual attraction without there already being an emotional bond in place, be it friendship or romantic. It’s just not likely, not without the trust of an established bond. Just . . complete stranger? Nope, nuh-uh, no sparks, no interest. Mind, there’s usually an exception or two, not that anyone’s required to _act_ on those.”

Scorpio spoke up from her end of the table, holding her tea mug in both hands - a little unusual for her, as typically she kept a hand free. “Brick, you said you considered yourself asexual until a few years ago. Is it too personal to ask what caused you to change your mind?”

“Realizing I’d developed one hell of a lust-crush on a longtime friend.” You replied cheerfully, taking a moment to nom down on part of the cinnamon roll you’d be shredding. It promptly tingled and disappeared before you were quite finished speaking, causing you to gag and choke briefly. Completely not noticing the emotion that rippled around the table and settled warily around a few of your housemates. 

“Heergh . . achk, okay . . mm. Speaking of exceptions, that was one for me - I sure as fuck didn’t act on it. No way in hell - it confused the hell out of me, and the thought of them with their spouse made me way happier than anything else. But it did get me to really think hard about what few past relationships I have had and other things.”

“Not that a sample size of **two** is much.” You snort, then shrug. Setting down the rest of the roll, you try to poke it off to the side as you scanned the faces around you. Most of them looked contemplative, curious . . . Aries was deadpan as usual there was something brittle and sharp in his gaze that made your heart sink a little. ~~honestly his constant suspicion was starting to drag you down a bit and now he apparently had yet another reason to dislike you it seems~~

“So . . yeah. Pretty much realized the only times I have felt sexually attracted to someone was when I already knew them very well. I’ve never felt it on first meeting, or first date. People are just . . people.” You gave a helpless shrug, turning your gaze down to your coffee mug. “Not really anything to do with whatever Moon Unit was going to say, but . . yeah, I’m Demisexual. I don’t really get the whole romantic attraction thing without actually knowing the other person . . es.”

Persons.

Not person.

_Persons._

You didn’t realize you’d been staring at nothing, caught in your realization until Razor belched into his coffee mug mid-sip. Coffee ended up spraying everywhere within a few feet of his seat, Keet and Scorpio yelping and leaping from their chairs - or outright teleporting to somewhere near the ceiling.

“Agh, you got it in the _food!”_

“What the fuck?!”

“Are you all right?”

Dealing with the ensuing mess thoroughly derailed everything. Breakfast pretty much dissolved into chaos, with some of your household moving to help Razor clean up, and others moving to take the food out or finish eating hurriedly. All of you had learned to not go too long without eating regularly. Nobody wanted a repeat of the grilled cheese incident.

With everybody else either helping Razor or finishing eating, you collected the food and went into the kitchen to scrape out the coffee-splattered parts of the dishes that were hit. Straight into the composting bin, even if there wasn’t the same problem of bacteria transfer with monster spit, the idea of eating the contaminated food was pretty gross. Plus, the compost would eventually go into Keet’s efforts to resurrect your grandmother’s garden.

It would be good to have fresh, homegrown vegetables again.  
“Brick?” Scorpio set the rest of the plates next to you on the counter. Via those floating hands, of course. And not paying them a lick of apparent attention as she leaned her hip against the counter, the hands behind her putting the leftovers away in tupperware. Her expression had a touch of hidden concern under the sharp curiosity.

Maybe you’d make fried rice with dinner, there was enough left of the scrambled eggs- a snapping noise jolted your attention from over Scorpio’s shoulder. Seeing she had your attention now, Scorpio re-folded her arms to give you a faintly annoyed look that quickly faded into something a little more concerned. “ . . what prompted this breakfast revelation?”

You felt comfortable with Scorpio, and it wasn’t just that you two were the females of the household. ~~seriously why were you so comfortable with her already~~ But you weren’t comfortable enough to admit it was because you were missing somebody else - oh screw secrecy. “Just realized that the . . dynamic between me and Dings changed. And I know I miss some social cues, being how I am. I just- ugh, how to phrase this right.”

You snapped down the lid on the compost bin, and set the last bowl in the sink as you thought over your words. “I . . I miss cues, not just romantic ones, and it’s not just my hearing loss or my inability to focus sometimes. I just wanted to give you all an even playing field on understanding why. It’s not deliberate or personal. It’s just how I’m wired. Hell, unless they’re written down most dirty jokes fly over my head.”

 

Shrugging, you lift your gaze to find her giving you a slightly crooked smile of amusement. You watched back, a little smile on your face. After a few seconds the two of you burst into snickers, not quite able to keep a straight face anymore. It feels good, relaxing.

Dishes drift by and into the sink as you laugh, and by the time the giggles are gone it’s pretty clear the table’s back at business - you can hear their voices and the rustle of paper. Meeting Scorpio’s gaze, you smile and nod when she says, “Shall we rejoin?”

Back at the table, things are definitely set up for business - multiple tablets are out, pens, loose paper and notebooks are everywhere. Moon Unit was blatantly using his projective holographic tablet, Gemini at his side with another one. There’s some stylistic differences that vaguely remind you of the differences between an iPhone and a Pixel, but what they’re using is pretty clearly the same tech. Scorpio sits down on Moon Unit’s other side and brings out her own - hers lights up in a reddish purple, Moon Unit’s is blue, and Gemini’s is . . softly green? You weren’t sure if the colors meant anything, with how they didn’t match what you’d seen of the trio’s individual magic hues.

Dings was definitely giving the tablets a distinct kind of glance you recognized, even though his attention was on his own iPad. The ‘I want to know how it WORKS’ look you could easily recognize from your family tree having sprouted so many engineers on it’s branches. 

Aries had exactly three pens and two notebooks in front of himself - the heavy, leatherbound notebooks one of the students had left behind when they dropped out of classes three years ago. Not everybody is cut out to study law. 

The rest of you all had a mix of cheapie notebooks and a smorgasboard of pens - you religiously bought a new batch of cheap lined one-subject notebooks every year at the start-of-school-sale at your local Target. It was the easiest way to restock your DMing supplies, after all. There was a stack of loose paper in the middle of the table.

Keet, Razor, and Murphy were all wearing folded paper hats. You . . really weren’t sure who’d made the hats in the first place. Or why they were wearing them. ~~it was kinda adorable~~

You had made sure you had at least three notebooks and eight highlighters as well as your two pens. And your phone on the table recording the conversation. Yeah, you hated transcribing from audio recordings, but it would capture more faster than you could write.

 

You were double-checking that all your highlighters worked when Aries spoke. “So. Why are we doing this inane meeting.”

“I would have thought it would be obvious.” Wing replied, his hands neatly folded on top of his ipad. A summoned hand gestured towards the holographic displays. “There are clear discrepancies in technology between our experiences in the Underground. What else is different? How different? Are the rest going to be arriving as well?”

A brief pause, and Dings’ fingers swiped over his iPad as he continued. “I may as well start, as this is what until a few weeks ago all humans and monsters on the surface knew.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the fic! Honestly, this is my . . second ever fic posted on AO3. I love this site, but holy nelly am I nervous about this. Hopefully y'all will enjoy this hopefully not too rambly self-indulgence.
> 
> And why a **Gaster** reverse harem fic? _Because I couldn't find one and wanted it._


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